Dancing With Skeletons
by Scriobhaim
Summary: "If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance" - George Bernard Shaw The final installment of the "Charlie Trilogy" that began with the birth of the O'Donovan family in "Sea and Change" and followed by the reveal of the past in "The Everlasting Present". Charlie is no longer a child and ready to strike out on his own. Can mayhem be far behind?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Burn Notice and its characters are the intellectual property of others.**

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Haon**_

"A gap year? Are you completely daft" She stood facing them, arms crossed, fury in her eyes.

"I'm just not ready to start university. I need a bit of a break, do some travelling, see a bit of the world." He tried to sound light hearted, casting glances toward his father hoping for support.

"We've been shopping for supplies for a month! Don't you think you might have mentioned this plan of yours?" Fiona confronted her son.

"I told you I only needed some new trainers and jeans. The Frette linens and all those kitcheny things were your idea." Charlie spoke plainly but when he saw his mam's face upon hearing those words, he swiftly added, "And they will be extremely useful when I head off to university next fall."

"Well, its too late. Term starts in a week. I don't see how you'll get the university to approve your leave in time." Fiona felt she had found a definitive end to this thought and was about to walk away when Charlie blurted out, "It's already settled." He slowly took the letter from his pocket and attempted to uncrumple it before handing it to his mother, refusing to meet her eyes. Michael stared at the carpet, hoping no weapons were in her reach, steeling himself against any projectile that may be hurled in his direction.

Fiona took the letter as if it could detonate at any time. She held it at arm's length, reading but not truly believing the printed words. When she reached the end, she made an attempt to hand it to Michael, so that he could read of his son's folly. Michael was immobile! In fact, he was holding his breath. Then it dawned on her - he knew! Not only did he have this knowledge but also he kept it from her! "Michael, may I speak to you for a minute - alone?" Her voice belied the anger that flashed in her eyes. This was when she was the most dangerous. He was reluctant to move but refusing would ensure even greater wrath. He stood up, making eye contact with Charlie who gave him a weak smile in solidarity.

"I'll just go to my room. Schoolwork and all. Don't want to get behind" Charlie rose slowly from the chair. He wished to quickly exit the scene, hoping his father would be able to diffuse the situation.

"Move a muscle from that chair, young man, and it may possibly be the last step you ever take." Fiona glared. Charlie received the message and immediately sat down. Surely, his mam was in jest, but just in case ...

Michael stared straight ahead, walking as if to the gallows, and followed her into the next room. She turned abruptly and faced him. No words were forthcoming as she waited for him to explain. The silence became increasingly uncomfortable as they stared into each other's eyes, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Michael broke, "I know I should have told you straight away."

Fiona's arms moved to her hips, "Then why didn't you. No secrets, remember?"

"We were wrong." Michael hoped the apologetic approach would work. "Charlie approached me with the idea a couple of months ago."

"A couple of months!" Michael watched Fiona's body grow rigid. Perhaps, full disclosure was not in everyone's best interest. He quickly made adjustments to his approach. "Charlie began to have reservations about leaving home. He thought maybe he should defer his admission for a year, help out in the garage, maybe do a little travelling." Fiona's posture began to soften. Michael was encouraged to continue, "He wasn't sure if his deferral would be accepted. If it wasn't, he was afraid it would upset you, thinking about his reluctance to leave, his fear of homesickness ..." He stopped spinning this tale and waited for Fiona to process his statements.

"The poor lad!" Fiona glanced toward the direction of her son. Michael breathed a sigh of relief, believing the tide had turned in his favour. He gave a comforting smile and reached toward her, planning to swoop her into his arms for a loving embrace.

Fiona had other ideas. She pushed him away, knocking him into the nearby wardrobe. Michael looked perplexed. "The poor lad. When he comes home for a visit, he'll have no where to sleep as his da will be takin' over his bed ... or would ya prefer the sofa." Michael realised his ruse had completely failed. "Spies are supposed to be good liars. You've been outta the game for quite a while, Michael Westen, and you have rusted beyond all measure." She stormed out of the room as Michael groaned, scrambling to think of a Plan B.

Fiona ignored Charlie as she reentered the room. She was pleased to see that he remained in place. She busied herself in the kitchen stealing sideways glances at her son. She noticed his slumped shoulders and his expression of worry, hating to be the cause of her displeasure. Michael slipped into the room unsure if he should approach Fiona, his demeanour apologetic. Both men exchanged glances. Charlie shrugged his shoulders indicating to Michael he was totally lost as to what to do or say to improve the situation.

The sound of wine being poured into a goblet could be heard within the stillness of the cottage. Fi emerged holding two glasses of her favourite red wine. She walked over to Michael, wordlessly offering him a glass. He appreciated the gesture, recognising it as a peace offering, of sorts. "Thought those both might be for you." There was a twinkle in his eye as he broached the subject. Fiona made no retort but took a sip of the beverage as she made her way to the sofa. She looked at Michael, indicating that he should join her. Michael was wary. Fi's mood seemed to have shifted. She no longer appeared to be in a murderous rage but a part of him wondered if it could be a trap. He mustered the courage to put on a smile and take his place at her side, his instincts on high alert, ready for the first whiff of danger.

"Let's start again, shall we?" Fiona opened the conversation. "What's going on, Charlie? A gap year? I thought you were quite excited about going to university." Fiona had clearly put aside her anger, at least temporarily. Charlie saw concern in her eyes. She was ready to listen. He began to relax as he began to explain.

"It's like I've told you before. I want to see more of the world; all the places you've told me about - Paris, Milan, Berlin." He paused, "Once I start university, I'll be bogged down with my studies, trying to earn a few euros here at the garage during holiday breaks... I may never get to travel beyond Ireland." Fi could understand this wish. She often felt confined on the isle, missing the lure of the Continent and beyond. This wasn't the first time Charlie had wanted to spread his wings. Charlie recognised the look in his mam's eyes, thinking of that earlier time and the consequences that resulted from his travels. He took her hand in his. "No worries, mam. I'm ready this time." His voice, no longer that of a child, spoke with conviction and sincerity.

And it was true, he was ready. Charlie's education encompassed more than his college academics after the family's encounter with Thomas O'Neill and his associates three years earlier. Charlie, no longer unaware of his parents' complex past, had embraced all the knowledge they were willing to impart. No longer keeping their past in the shadows, Michael and Fiona answered every question with not only words, but often with actions, as well. It began with gaming. Charlie, an avid player, gleaned what he could from Michael. Side-by-side, they worked the controls of the virtual world as they discussed strategy and tactics. His education was not limited to video games. On their shopping trips to Limerick and Cork City, Fiona taught Charlie how to 'tail' someone whether it by on foot or by a vehicle. Charlie was becoming quite adept after his 'training'.

Charlie no longer avoided Michael and Fiona's trips to the gun range. He learned how to use every type of weapon in their arsenal. That experience was coupled with copious discussions of safety concerns for himself and others. It also included an exploration of moral and ethical issues related to the use of that particular skill set. Charlie learned the proper care and maintenance of whatever gun he was using for practice. Fiona and Charlie often made a game of dissembling and assembling each handgun. Speed, accuracy, and often adverse conditions like darkness or weather provided additional challenges for them to contend with, while Michael presided as judge.

Michael taught Charlie Russian, as well as Spanish, discovering the youngster had a facility for languages. Meanwhile, Fiona provided instruction in alternate uses for many household chemicals. Unfortunately, he was unable to put much of this information to practical use as a few of his early efforts resulted in fireballs or concussive sounds that disconcerted the neighbours. He had mentally tucked away that knowledge for future use.

Both of his parents spent quality time together searching databases for past acquaintances, those who were friendlies and those who were not. They shared this research with Charlie giving him lists of potential enemies, allies, and assets should the unexpected occur. They had prepared him for the future, whether they were present in it or not.

The past three years had flown swiftly by. While Charlie was growing up they feared exposure, now they revelled in a life with few secrets, strengthening the bond with their son as he approached adulthood. Charlie clearly understood that danger was just a breath away. He had learned that through experience. Now, he possessed skills to help him avoid that eventuality and techniques to protect himself if that was not possible. He truly was ready to spread his wings.

Fiona stared at the hand that held hers, a boy's hand no longer. She lifted her eyes to meet Charlie's and shook the past aside, "And where will you stay during this jaunt of yours? Don't give a thought to using your university money!" Her voice indicated that this point was non-negotiable.

"I wouldn't give it a thought." Charlie smiled. "I won't need much. I plan on couch surfing for much of the time. Maybe pick up an odd job here and there."

"Couch surfing?" Michael looked at Fiona. They rolled their eyes thinking simultaneously that plan had significant tactical risks.

Charlie could easily read his parents' expressions and quickly spoke before further objections were raised. "It's only for a year. I hope to visit friends who are studying on the continent. Other mates, like Donal, plan to join me over holiday breaks." He paused, clearing his throat before continuing. "I'm going to do this. I need to do this. I hope it's to be with your blessing, but if it's not ..." His voice drifted away but the message was delivered.

Fiona brought her attention to Michael who made a hardly perceptible nod of his head. She stood up and walked away without a sound. Charlie closed his eyes and wiped his hand over his face, a gesture clearly picked up from Michael, often used in time of utter frustration. He feared his plea had been ignored, that no support, at least from his ma, would be forthcoming.

When he opened them, he saw an outstretched hand holding a glass, offering it to him.

"Here." Fiona offered him the glass. Charlie was confused by her actions. Then, Michael moved closer, picked up the bottle of wine from the table, and poured a bit into Charlie's empty glass.

He set the bottle down and picked up his own glass. Fi and Michael stood before him, glasses in hand.

Michael turned to Fiona, then toward Charlie. "To new beginnings!"

Fiona repeated, "New beginnings," her voice not so exuberant.

Charlie raised his glass, a huge smile on his face, relief coursing through his body. "Slainte!" His grand adventure was about to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Do**_

A celebration was underway. On the surface it was like many happening across the country at the time. A family had gathered to witness the awarding of a Leaving Certificate, the successful culmination of time spent in secondary school, the ticket to university life. The ceremony had been brief, a few words from the head master followed by handshakes and punch. Charlie was the centre of attention accumulating a string of firsts, garnering admission into Trinity College's School of Engineering, quite a feat considering the family's roots.

And now the cottage was filled with Glenannes! Fiona insisted that a quiet celebration was in order but the others would have none of it. They descended upon the trio with exuberance and whiskey. There were Glenannes of every shape and size with boisterous voices, eager for an excuse for reunion. Charlie's imminent relocation to Dublin was the perfect opportunity for a family get together. It wasn't as if the Glenannes had been distant over the years but never had they joined in one mass visit before today.

Michael huddled in the kitchen, intently focused on slicing celery and carrots. Fiona strolled into the kitchen, accosted by the largest pile of julienne carrots that she had even seen. "Planning on feeding the entire rabbit population of western Kerry or are you hiding out? Fiona posed the question but clearly was aware of his intent. Michael briefly looked up, immediately spotting the icy cold stare of Fiona's mother from across the room. Michael quickly looked away but not before Fi had followed his gaze.

She smiled, and then turned slightly. Speaking in a soft whisper, she noted, "You're avoiding her?"

"Who?" Michael feigned ignorance.

"Who? Really?" Fiona was not letting Michael off the hook. "You have dealt with warlords, terrorists, cartel bosses ... and you're actually afraid of an 85-year-old woman?" Her face reflected her surprise, as well as, her amusement at the discovery. "What happened to the fearless, Michael Westen, that I fell in love with?" She stopped, thoroughly reveling in his discomfort.

"I'm not afraid exactly ..." He paused momentarily. "It's just that I can tell she hates me."

Fiona scoffed and turned to look at her mother. She noted her stance and expression, even the way she held her glass. Turning back toward Michael, she conceded what he had already observed. "Point taken. Apparently she does hate you." Michael bowed his head. "But she loves Charlie, as he does her." Fi gently touched his arm. "So while I'm going to take a few of these lovely vegetables over to my brothers, you're going to offer mam a refill of her wine." Michael opened his mouth about to object, but saw Fi's expression and realised it was pointless to argue. "Believe me, I'm giving you the easier task. Unless it's fermented, fried, or in a jacket potato, my brothers will be givin' me the beans about my 'healthy' offering." Then, she was off, tray in hand as she weaved through the crowd.

Michael's heart raced as he picked up the bottle of claret and made the march over to where the matron of this group stood. She watched his approach with a steely gaze.

"Norah." He said her name as a greeting.

She answered in a similar manner with a nod of her head, her eyes wary. "Michael."

Michael cleared his throat, "May I top that off for you?"

"I could have a wee bit more." Norah Glenanne raised her glass so that Michael could fill it more easily. They stood side-by-side, uncomfortably silent, unsure whether to speak or remain wordless. It reminded him a bit of that awkward moment he once had with a Russian warlord in a Nigerian hotel room. Michael wondered how long he should stand here before he could make a clean getaway. "Tis a grand day," Norah noted breaking the stillness. "Not too often one of your own gets admitted to Trinity of all places, especially a Glenanne. We're looking forward to havin' the lad in Dublin, though I understand we'll be needin' to wait a mite longer. Gap year to be, is it?"

This may have been the longest conversation Michael had with Fiona's mother in years. He nodded, then added, "Fiona isn't too pleased with the change of plans."

"Suppose not, but children don't always heed our warnings, do they? They don't always do what we want them to do, more's the pity." Norah turned to face Michael as she spoke. Michael understood they were no longer talking about Charlie. Michael wished a sniper was hiding outside, soon to take a kill shot that would put him out of his current misery. Her eyes drifted over to where her children had gathered. All five of her boys huddled together, boisterous laughter emanating from the group. Their attention was focused on their sister who was obviously telling quite a tale. Furtive glances coming their way gave Michael the impression their conversation might be about him and his 'mother-in-law'. Charlie soon wandered over to the group, joining the _craic_. He placed an arm around his ma's shoulders, towering over her tiny frame.

Norah watched the scene for a moment before speaking. "Did you know that Fiona was admitted to university?" Michael shook his head, his brow furrowed, another piece of their past lives hidden away. Both sets of eyes were fixed on the woman that they both loved. "Queens Belfast. Quite rare for a Catholic in those days. She was to study chemistry. Suppose she did, in a manner of speakin'. It all changed when we lost Claire." Norah's thoughts returned to the present. She looked at Michael, her face softened, a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "You made her very happy, Michael-in the end." Then, she moved away, heading toward her children, the circle always incomplete, the hole left from her missing daughter always open and never far from her thoughts.

Michael watched her exit, reeling from a compliment he never expected to receive. As Norah approached, the circle opened to include her. She reached for her daughter's hand, beckoned her closer, and whispered in her ear. Fiona peaked at Michael for an instant before returning to the fold.

He was pleased that she was clearly enjoying herself despite her initial objections. The cottage was feeling a bit claustrophobic so Michael decided to get some fresh air. He stepped outside only to be greeted by a gaggle of giggling teenage Glenannes, so he continued onward, his pace quickening. As he walked toward the back garden, the 'sisters-in-law' were gathered round the picnic table. As soon as they spotted him, they urged him closer, hoping he would join their repartee. Michael thought he would rather be interrogated by a Special Forces squad than face their questioning. He smiled, "Would love to but... I need a few things from the garage..." He quickly hustled in the direction of the outbuilding, needing some solitude, needing some escape. Once there, he began tinkering with one of his projects, his comfort level increasing with each passing moment.

It wasn't long before his hideaway was discovered. Michael's shoulders slumped as he heard the approaching footsteps fearing it was Fiona, knowing he would be forced inside. He was somewhat surprised to see Charlie standing at the doorway with a large glass of ice tea in hand. Michael's brow furrowed as he spotted his son, "That for me?"

Charlie nodded. "Who else here would drink this swill? Ice in your tea? Almost sacrilegious, it is." He winked at his da. "Ma saw you disappear. Sent me out here. She also said if you needed something stronger to take the edge off, she'd understand." Both men grinned at the suggestion.

"This should do nicely. Thanks." Michael took the glass as Charlie looked about.

"Do you think you'll take someone on when I leave? Someone, you know, to help out a bit at the garage?" Charlie was concerned about the increased workload his absence would create. He had become quite a skilled assistant.

"We'll manage." Michael smiled weakly. It would not be his work in the garage that would leave a hole in their lives. He looked at Charlie, a boy no longer. He was nearly six feet, much taller than Nate had been. "Where are you headed first?"

"Amsterdam. Found a good fare. A great many land connections there so it will be easy to get around." Charlie explained his reasoning. "You sure my passport won't be a problem for air travel?"

Michael explained, "Should be fine. Somehow Fi managed to talk to one of her old 'associates' when the passports came up for renewal. She managed to convince him to issue official documents, as well as, national health cards for all of us."

"Were guns or blackmail involved as she 'convinced' him?" Charlie chuckled at the thought.

"Possibly." Michael joined in the laughter. "I did notice our accounts were a few thousand euros poorer after the meeting. You should be fine."

Charlie's face darkened as he broached another subject. "What about mam? Will she be fine ... about me leaving?"

Michael continued to smile. He thought back to his own complicated relationship with his own mother. He never wanted to disappoint her. Clearly, Charlie felt the same about his mam. "Believe it or not, Fi led a very independent life before you came to us. I expect she'll somehow survive your absence."

"But you seem to be forgetting, Da, she filled her childless days causing quite a bit of mayhem." Charlie had a twinkle in his eye as he pointed out the obvious. "Don't want her to start filling her days by smuggling black market cigarettes into the county or the like." Charlie paused, "Maybe she could take up knitting? Donal's mam is in a group of some sort. They make blankets and shawls for the ill and the needy." Charlie stopped when he saw Michael's face who grimaced initially at the thought, then broke into laughter.

"Knitting and Fi?" Michael pondered the possibilities. "She is more likely to find 101 uses for the knitting needles. None of which is what they are actually to be used for, and all of them potentially lethal." Charlie was clearly worried about how his parents would cope with his absence. "We'll be fine, Charlie." Michael watched as Charlie visibly relaxed with this reassurance. "You better get back inside. Thanks for the tea. I'll be in shortly." Charlie nodded and turned back toward the house.

He supposed he should head back in and see if Fi needed help feeding the hordes. This was foreign territory for him. Growing up, family gatherings were severely limited. Frank liked to keep his family insular, dependent upon him. Michael was exceedingly pleased that had not been Charlie's experience. The Glenannes quickly embraced him as one of their own, another added to their fold. Because of Charlie, Fiona returned home. Norah welcomed her only living daughter, the brothers once again had a sister close by, and a child solidified the ties. Michael would always be a bit of an outsider to the clan. He would always be the man who abandoned Fiona Glenanne, breaking her heart in the process, the man who was invited into the family but wore a cloak of deception that eventually kept their girl in temporary exile, initially by choice, later by circumstance. Despite the recent years of happiness, Michael would always harbour a hearty portion of guilt for having created such havoc in Fi's life over the years. He hoped the past fifteen years had erased some of the misery he had caused. As he reentered the house, Fi rushed over to his side and slipped her arms around him, reassuring him that those hints at past sadness had no place in their current lives.

"Perfect timing. Seems like much of this crew is intending to head to the local. Keep the party going. Feel like a pint?" Fi tried to gauge Michael's state of mind. She understood how awkward he felt around her family. She often felt the same way though time had eased some of the tension her choices had wrought.

Michael was about to decline when Norah's voice pronounced, "Come on with ye, Michael. The whole family is to go." She looked at him sternly, "That includes you, does it not?" She had made him an offer he dared not refuse. She headed for the door not waiting for an answer.

Fiona laughed at Michael's strange expression. "Looks like you've finally been made a Glenanne! Better get a move on before she takes a switch to you." She slipped her arm through his as they joined the string of family members heading down the lane toward the pub ready to continue the celebration honouring Charlie and the family that raised him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Tri**_

The time for another Last Supper had arrived. Fiona reminisced about such a meal long ago, almost another lifetime. Of course, she was not privy to the fact that it was to be a final dinner together, unaware that Michael's smiles were for her benefit, hiding his own emotions behind a facade. He was good at that, after all, he was a spy! Perhaps, it was less painful in a way. That had been an evening of joy; despair not finding her until the morning. This time, a parting was known. Though she fully believed it was a temporary separation, the constant ticking of the hallway clock reminded her that time was waning. Charlie was grown and ready to strike out on his own, as it should be. She and Michael would still be here when his wanderlust was satiated.

An array of Charlie's favourite dishes filled the dining room table. Charlie was somewhat surprised by the number and variety of dishes. His mam was a decent enough cook but her repertoire of recipes was limited. She tended to make meals filled with fresh vegetables and grilled or baked fish. But today, there were fish and chips, a delicious smelling curry, a savoury pie of some sort, and a beef roast with colcannon and roasted root vegetables. There was even an apple tart with cream for pudding following the meal! There was enough to feed a small army rather than a family of three. He could see that his da had a hand in the preparations. He wondered if perhaps preparing this feast kept their minds off the looming goodbye that was rapidly approaching. He felt a small tug of his heart as he watched his parents busily putting the finishing touches on the meal. Their smiles belied the sadness that he could see in their eyes.

"Is this all for me or is the entire village joining us for tea?" Charlie winked as he neared his ma planting a kiss on her cheek.

Fiona began to explain. "I wanted to be sure you had a proper meal before your trip. Only heaven knows when your next decent meal will be. I expect you'll be living on crisps and pizza for a while!"

"Doesn't sound too bad to me." Charlie responded. "Though, admittedly, I will miss the cooks here."

They gathered round the table, sampling the bounty before them. Charlie scooped up mountainous portions filling his plate. He knew it might be some time before another home cooked meal came his way and he intended to take full advantage of the feast. Michael watched as Charlie settled down to eat. "Fi, I think you'll be able to get another pair of Jimmy Choo's with all the money we will be saving not having to feed this one."

"Ah, and I thought the only thing to look forward to was not having to deal with his sweaty work out clothes. Another perk." Charlie appreciated that both parents were making an effort to keep the tone of the evening light despite the underlying sadness.

As Charlie tucked into his food, Michael continued the conversation. "So, did you manage to get everything done today?"

"Think so. Not too much needed to be done actually. Did a bit of laundry. Packed my rucksack and the like." Charlie was a planner not leaving much to chance.

Fiona rolled her eyes, "I can't believe you're bringing such a small bag. My cosmetics would barely fit in it! Are you sure you are bringing everything you may need?"

Michael made a quick glance at Fiona who had never managed the technique of packing light. She treated each excursion as if it was to be a permanent move taking along half her wardrobe never knowing what she may require. Michael, on the other hand, had learned to make do with the minimum purchasing essentials if the need arose. Charlie took his cue from him. "No worries, Ma. I don't need much. Some shirts, boxers, socks, couple pairs of jeans. If I need more I'll pick it up along the way." The last thing Charlie wanted was to drag a heavy suitcase throughout his travels.

"What have you decided to do about your mobile? You're still planning to keep in touch, right?" Fi followed up with another inquiry.

"Every Sunday, just as we discussed." Charlie paused and smiled reassuringly at his mother. It had been an easy promise to make: a regularly scheduled weekly check in just so that they could hear his voice, know that all was well. This small concession would ease his parents' worries. "The roaming charges are simply too dear. I already picked up a pay-as-you-go mobile ..."

"Known in the trade as a burner phone." Michael jumped in.

"Always the spy, Da, but yes, a burner phone. I'll always have one … but ..."

"It may not always be the same one, so we may not be able to reach you." Michael understood the situation even if it did make them feel slightly uncomfortable. He flashed back to his young adulthood. No mobiles at that time. Madeline had a P.O. Box that he rarely checked. She was completely cut off from contact with her eldest son. He now realised just how difficult that situation must have been for her. The physical and emotional distance was necessary for Michael at that time. He needed independence, his own life, and an escape from his role as protector for his mother and brother. The mantle of responsibility had become too difficult for him to shoulder. But his freedom had come at a cost, a cost he had not calculated until events forced him back to Miami, back to his family.

Now, the boy he had raised required some independence of his own. His reasons were quite different but the need was universal. It was every set of parents' goals to raise a child that would survive and flourish away from their care. Charlie would do just that, he had no doubts. Still he knew that his thoughts would never be far from Charlie regardless if he was near or far. Charlie was a part of him, a part of them; his absence would cause some phantom pain as if a limb had been amputated. The one consolation seemed that Charlie wasn't running away from his family, simply heading toward his own dreams. He would return with his own stories to tell, with a history of his own.

"Ma already gave me an extra SIM card loaded with every possible contact known to this family." Apparently, Fiona's training was always at the forefront of her mind, as well. "She even made a hidden compartment in one of my trainers so it would be difficult to lose or steal." Fi looked smugly about her, pleased with her plan and attention to detail. Charlie thought it was a bit over the top but did not refuse, placating her cloak-and-dagger approach to travelling. He noticed her plate had barely been touched, her fork simply moving bits of food from place to place. He was pained knowing he was the cause of her lack of appetite but one more topic must be broached, "About tomorrow. There's no need to make the long journey to Shannon. If you get me to Killarney in the morning, I can catch the bus to the airport. Then you can just go about your day. Not have to close the garage."

"Don't be daft!" Fiona responded immediately. "We made the journey here together. We'll do the same to send you on your way."

Michael agreed, "We'll stick to the plan." He looked at Fiona, reaching for her hand. "Besides, there's some art exhibit Fi has been wanting to see in Limerick. We'll get you settled and have an outing ourselves." Fi squeezed his hand appreciating his comforting touch.

"That's settled then." Fiona put an end to that discussion as the clock chimed.

Charlie was startled. "Och! Is that the time? Promised I'd meet the lads down at the pub for a last pint. They're buying so I'd not want to miss it!" Charlie smiled as he cleared his plate. "Care to join us?" The invitation was sincerely issued.

"Thanks, but no. Join your friends." Michael appreciated the gesture but realised Charlie needed time with his childhood friends before plunging into adulthood.

"Go on with ya before I put an apron on ya to help with the washing up!" Fiona shouted at him before heading into the kitchen carrying the remnants of the meal.

"I won't be late. I'm off then." And with that he hustled through the doorway continuing his night of goodbyes. They both turned to stare at the closing door. Another chapter of their life was coming to a close.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The day was a soft one, as gray as the mood they found themselves in. The car was filled with mindless chatter, meaningless conversation meant to camouflage the reason for the trip. It was a long ride to Shannon Airport. Each kilometre a cruel reminder of an unwanted separation in the minds of Michael and Fiona; each kilometre a moment closer to a grand adventure for Charlie.

Familiar places flashed by as they moved ever onward. Fiona used each venue to reminisce about a past outing shared by the three of them. There was Portmagee and a trip to the Skelligs where Charlie raced up the narrow stone steps determined to reach the _clochan _first, structures from the Dark Ages where monks once roamed. She made Michael chase after him nearly knocking over several American tourists in the process, the squeal of Charlie's laughter piercing the quiet of the island.

Cahersiveen soon came into view. The stone forts of Leacanabuaile and Cahergal provided the backdrop for some lazy picnics in the surrounding fields. Wildflowers had dotted the small rolling hills, the sea in the distance. They spent many happy hours speculating about the people who might have inhabited the forts once upon a time and what life was like when the land was heavily wooded and wealth was measured in cattle. Fiona could still remember holding her breath as Charlie and Michael scaled the walls and walked along the edges.

Then, the vista opened up to Castlemaine Bay. Inch Beach was just across the waterway, a Blue Flag beach where Michael taught Charlie to swim. The chilly water came as quite a surprise to the boy first introduced to the sea in the warm Miami waters, but he quickly acclimated as he frolicked in the splashing waves, Michael always at his side.

Memories lined their route. But coming all too quickly, the landscape changed into unfamiliar territory. They had no stories to tell about Shannon or its airport - until today. As they made their final approach, silence filled the car, words unnecessary. Michael eased into the car park. All three exited in unison, then Charlie went round to the boot to gather up his rucksack. They slowly made their way to the terminal, their footsteps slow and heavy hoping to prolong their unity. All too soon, the doors opened and they were inside.

"Well then, I suppose we should get you checked in." Fiona tried to sound nonplussed but hesitation could be felt behind the words.

Charlie gave a weak smile, "No need. Already checked in online. Printed my boarding card and I only have hand baggage. There are some advantages to packing light, Ma."

"In that case, I guess we'll walk you to the security queue and say our goodbyes." Charlie began to look uncomfortable. Michael realised that drawing out his departure would only prolong this painful moment. He saw that Fi had turned quite pale, her eyes starting to fill with tears despite her best efforts to keep them in check. "Better yet, Charlie can find his own way from here." Fi started to object but she recognised that a few minutes more would not make the parting any less bitter. She wanted to send her son off with smiles, not tears, so perhaps Michael had a sound suggestion.

"Right then. Keep your wits about you. Make sure you make those calls every Sunday!" She gave the order with force. "Remember I have guns and I'm not afraid to use them!" She embraced her son, placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then whispered a final goodbye, _"Slan go foill, a stoirin. Graim thu."_ That said she quickly turned and walked away at a brisk pace letting Michael know that she would meet him at the car.

The two stood speechless for a moment. Charlie reached for his da. A final hug, a strained set of smiles, and some parting words ended the goodbyes. "Enjoy Amsterdam. Looking forward to hearing from you! I have guns, too." Charlie chuckled breaking some of the tension. "Take care."

"I will, Da. I promise." Charlie turned toward the gates and Michael watched him walk away. Charlie grew smaller and smaller as the distance increased, reminding him of just how wee he was when they first arrived here. When he could no longer see him, Michael turned to join Fiona, a feeling of emptiness already piercing his soul.

Charlie set a steady pace, eyes focused ahead. When he was fairly certain he had reached a safe distance, he looked behind him. No sign of his parents. Hopefully, they were already on their way. He kept watch for several moments just to be safe. Once assured, he headed in another direction, winding his way through the terminal. He arrived at his intended destination and was brightly greeted at the kiosk. He turned over his passport, which was quickly scanned and returned without difficulty. "Enjoy your flight!" came the pert reply.

"Thanks!" He entered the waiting area for his intended flight. Destination: Miami.


	4. Chapter 4

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Ceathair**_

This was definitely not how he pictured embarking on his grand adventure. Charlie's six-foot frame was wedged in the centre of economy seating at the back of the plane. His knees were flush against the seat in front of him, battered every time that passenger decided to readjust his seat. The woman to his left had fallen fast asleep, her head and most of her upper body encroaching upon his already limited personal space. At one point, her head nearly rested upon his shoulder until he twisted his body toward the right. There, he fared no better. The male passenger plugged into his tablet was clearly enjoying his video selections. Loud guffaws and laughter emanated from him with consistency. Each time Charlie grew drowsy, a burst of laughter quickly woke him up. He tried the airline-supplied earplugs but it simply muffled the sound making him feel as if he were underwater. He began to realise there was little rest to be had on this journey!

As uncomfortable as the seating in this long haul flight seemed to him, there was something worse! Two hours into the flight a meal arrived: a postage stamp sized portion of lasagna with a roll that could have served double duty as a hockey puck. He tried to fill his belly by drinking copious amounts of liquids but that led to a need to move about the cabin and extricating himself from his assigned seat took the skills of a contortionist. Perhaps, he had not been too deprived not travelling all these years!

Since sleep was clearly eluding him, discouraging thoughts began to seep into his consciousness. What was he doing? This seemed like a sound plan when he devised it, but the reality was not living up to his expectations. His parents thought he was simply on a jaunt to Amsterdam, a relatively quick journey. He had not told him of his actual destination. They would never have given him their blessing if he had. They would have cautioned him in no uncertain terms about the possible dangers, a chance that he was willing to take. He knew how worried his parents would be if he even mentioned 'Miami' as a stop on his travels much less that this city was the main reason he felt compelled to take a gap year in the first place.

When he first learned about his family's past, it was overwhelming. He saw the harsh reality of life as a covert operative first hand when Thomas O'Neill and his associates staged an armed assault on his home. Until that episode he was blissfully unaware that his parents once had a very different life than the one they presented to the world as he was growing up. But that was the last day their past, his past, remained hidden. Slowly, his parents unravelled a tale that spanned continents and decades. When all was said and done, the good they had both done certainly outweighed the uglier side of their careers. Their intentions were admirable, noble really, but their work came with a cost of great sacrifice and loss.

Those tales began to weigh heavily on his mind. He had grown up amid Glenannes. He knew their personalities, their histories. He loved hearing about childhood memories from his 'uncles', listening to stories about his mam when she was young. They brought 'Claire' to life so that she could be thought of as a real flesh and blood person not just some spark leading to vengeance. Most of all, he enjoyed the anecdotes about his mam and da, young and in love; the family unaware exactly who the dashing man that had captured their Fiona's heart truly was.

But there were other tales untold, those that remained in Miami. As time went on, he felt irresistibly drawn to its shores. He needed to see the places of his memories. It was a quest that was fraught with difficulties but Charlie seemed to sense that he would not truly be able to embrace his future until he had fully explored the past.

Miami: a city that conjured up images of beaches, bikinis, and excitement, a far cry from Iveragh. It finally appeared through the clouds. Even from altitude its turquoise waters and it's white sand beaches looked idyllic, a tropical paradise to be sure. It was difficult to believe so much mayhem had once occurred here; the destruction of a family, the birth of a new one.

His musings helped pass the time and it wasn't long before his feet stood on American soil once again. He held his breath as he passed through customs. He possessed no contraband but he still feared that his true identity would somehow be detected here. He had fears of being whisked away by airport security and interrogated. Worse yet, he would be 'outed', so to speak; a prodigal son returned to US shores, his photo splashed across the tabloids. But, he breezed through the airport, hardly garnering a second glance from anyone.

An international incident avoided, it was time to take care of essentials: food! The airport was filled with various eateries but an inexpensive option would help preserve those precious dollars he carried. He had 'borrowed' some funds from his parents without their knowledge. They kept a wad of American dollars in a hidden compartment in the cottage in case of emergencies. He was fairly certain they were unaware he had discovered the cache. He took just enough to see him through this initial phase of his journey, just enough for a meal or two, transport from the airport, and incidentals. He would find an ATM shortly and begin using his own funds. Charlie felt ashamed about this deception, necessary in his view, but he disliked the idea of betraying his parents' trust. He planned to return the funds upon his return to Ireland, hoping they would be none the wiser about the episode.

Dollars in hand he casually joined the queue and prepared to order a much-needed meal. Once at the counter, he used the best American accent he could muster. Even since he discovered that his da, as well as himself, were really Americans, he began to practice. He planned to put that acquired skill to use. If his mam could speak with a false accent for seven years, he supposed he could get by for a few days! He approached the counter, cleared his throat, "Combo Number 2 with a Coke." The service worker barely gave him a glance as she took his payment and presented him with a meal in a bag.

Charlie found a quiet corner in which to devour this meal that his mam would certainly frown upon. He could hear her lecture in his mind! "Ah, I see you chose something with several food groups represented: sugar, fat, and salt. How nutritious!" The thought made him smile. He hoped his parents would not be too lonely without him. He recalled a conversation he had recently with his da about this very issue. He suggested that his parents actually get married and have a long overdue honeymoon. "After all, Da, you told me that Grandma once joked she expected you two to be married by sixty. You're running out of time!"

Michael actually laughed, "Don't want to rush into anything but I'll take it under advisement." Charlie realised his parents would survive. After all, they had each other, for better and for worse.

As he finished his burger, he took some time to observe those around him. While on this mission, he wanted to assimilate, blend in as much as possible. His jeans and t-shirts fit in nicely but his footwear was all wrong. He needed to pick up some sandals, flip flops he thought Fi called them, and sunglasses. There wasn't much need for these back at home but here they seemed to be required dress.

His hunger somewhat satiated, his Intel gathering complete, it was time to head toward Miami Beach, find the place he had arranged to stay through the couch surfing website, and begin phase two of this expedition. He needed to find The Crest Hotel and pay an most unexpected visit to his parents' most trusted friend, Sam Axe, a man he felt could help provide some answers to the questions that still gnawed at him. He exited the airport and was bathed in the warm Miami sunshine. He had arrived.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael slowly came awake reaching toward where he expected to find his partner's sleeping form but he was met with only air. He opened his eyes verifying her absence. It was unusual for her to be about at this time. He was the early riser. Of course, this had been an unusual week. Fiona had been uncharacteristically quiet, not melancholy, simply pensive. Charlie's absence was keenly felt by both of them and they each were grappling with the adjustments needed in having the proverbial 'empty nest'.

Michael prepared for the day, grabbing a yoghurt, reading the online paper. He assumed Fi might be on a long run, giving her uninterrupted time to think about the future, their future. He knew that she needed some space right now. He headed down the lane for the shop. His workload was light this week. He was waiting for parts from Dublin for a couple of vehicles, another was promised to be ready at the end of the workday. He would tackle that project at once. Perhaps, he'd ring Fi mid morning and surprise her with a lunch invitation.

He arrived at the garage within minutes. The office door was already unlocked. Maybe, Fi was getting an early start on the week's accounts, but when he opened the door, it wasn't Fiona he spotted. There was a young woman at the reception desk. She looked up and greeted him with a cheerful, "Mornin'. Don't suppose it's an appointment you'll be wantin'." She winked clearly indicating she realised he was the proprietor of the establishment. "Tea?" She stood up ready to put the kettle on.

Michael was completely confused. He looked about him assuring himself that he had opened the correct door. "And you are?" He was clueless as to who this interloper was and why she was in his office.

"Deirdre. Deirdre O'Connell." She answered quickly. "I'm the new receptionist." Michael continued to stare blankly so she added, "The Mrs. gave me the job." She paused momentarily before adding, "I went to school with Charlie," as if that explained her presence.

A loud whirring of a motor jarred Michael and he looked toward the work area. Deirdre saw his attention shift. "That would be herself. She set right to work, she did." The telephone rang and Deirdre jumped to answer, pleased to have an excuse to remove herself from this awkward conversation. "Sullivan Auto Repair."

He moved toward the sound, inching ever closer. Then, he spotted her, elbows deep under the hood. She noticed his entrance at once, "Give me a hand here." He walked over slowly, a perplexed look on his face. He rolled up his sleeves and helped her with the jammed bolt she was attempting to loosen. "I see you met Deirdre."

"Pink hair. Interesting choice." Michael tried to sound lighthearted.

"It's merely a pink stripe." Fi quelled Michael's exaggeration. "Besides, her da is always on a tear. She's trying to help out a bit now that she's left school. She needs the work and we need the help." Michael stared at Fi still baffled by exactly what she had in mind. He hoped an explanation would soon be forthcoming.

Fi began to explain, a faraway look in here eyes. "Do you remember that conversation we had in Panama ages ago? Michael did and he winced at the memory. Fi recognised the pained expression and clarified immediately. "This isn't about recriminations or broken promises, Michael. We are well past that episode." She paused and directed her attention at him. "I told you then, I didn't need Ireland. Perhaps, I was wrong. I did need Ireland; we both did. But what I also told you that what I missed most was you and me working together, just the two of us, the way it used to be; the way it was at the beginning."

Michael's brow relaxed, his face softened. "I remember." The words were said softly, lovingly.

"Well, we've been doing just that for the past fifteen years." She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head before continuing. "Not exactly as I envisioned it, but raising Charlie, together, just the two of us, it was just what I needed, just what I wanted."

"I know... for me, too." Michael could see that Fi had been mulling over much of the past as she designed a plan for the future.

"So, I thought now that Charlie is off, you might need a helping hand here in the back." Michael did not respond but his smile indicated he approved of her plan. "Besides, I've always been good with power tools." A devilish grin crossed her face at this suggestion as she fired up an air drill. She burrowed under the hood, her voice muffled. "Tea should be about ready. Go have a cuppa with Deirdre. I've got this."

Tea with Deirdre? Michael thought he would rather drink cyanide. He watched Fiona as she tackled the repairs. Working together had always been the easiest part of their relationship. It was simply because they had common purpose. Raising Charlie had merged their personal life with what became their new work: parenthood. Life moved on and Fiona recognised it was time to change with it. He watched her movements, mesmerised by how those same hands could construct a blasting cap with technical expertise and dry Charlie's tears after a face plant off his bicycle. He had found the perfect partner to share his life and, apparently now, his garage. He would miss Charlie's presence, his idle chatter, but with Fiona, he was whole. Things had come full circle. Just the two of them, working together. The way it was meant to be. They had arrived!


	5. Chapter 5

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Cuig**_

The city was a marvel. Charlie basked in the sunshine as he strolled down the street, correctly outfitted, and looking very much like all the other young men milling about. He found sunglasses to be an excellent tool for surveillance hiding his eyes and the direction of his interest. At this moment it was simply the setting that was captivating him: buildings reaching to the heavens, gleaming in the bright light. He doubted that there were any buildings this tall in all of Ireland! What was more astounding was the noise, a cacophony of car horns, Latin music, and loud voices speaking in a multitude of languages. This was a place in constant motion and Charlie was enjoying its rhythm.

He paused at the entrance to the hotel and it's grand lobby. Holidaymakers swirled around him as he mustered the courage needed for the task. He hoped to find the man he was seeking without aid. He decided the first stop would be the hotel pool as he understood Mr. Axe enjoyed sunbathing, women in bikinis, and tropical beverages. He had even told his da once that he believed that _"tanning was both a science and an art"._ He seemed to be quite a character!

Charlie quickly spotted a hotel directory and wove his way through the hotel's corridors. The glass doors at the far end opened upon an enormous aquamarine pool. The deck was lined with lounge chairs filled by sun-worshippers and pasty tourists alike. As he was not attired in bathing trunks, he found a seat near the bar area, ordering a lemonade both as a thirst quencher and to provide an excuse for him to survey the area.

It did not take long to spot his target. He heard the voice before he saw his face: a booming baritone making jokes with the staff, a voice he recognised instantly from the Skype conversations with his parents over the years. He followed the sound, his eyes landing on the man, himself. He was older now, nearly seventy. Though his hair was completely grey, he still had a great deal of it, and he appeared to be quite fit for a man his age. His entourage departed and he settled back in his chair appearing ready for a mid-morning nap. Well, there was no time like the present. Charlie took a last gulp and headed toward the prone form.

"Mr. Axe? Sam Axe?" Charlie spoke in his best American accent. His body cast a shadow over the man.

Sam opened his eyes, shielding them from the sun as he responded to the call. "Most of the time." He saw the young man standing before him, not a face he immediately recognised, tall, athletically built, dark hair and eyes, looked to be in his late teens, early twenties, good lookin' fella. His heart skipped a beat hoping this apparition was not from one of his many past indiscretions. "Can I help you with something?" There was hesitancy in his question.

"You don't recognise me, do you?" Charlie smiled, as he looked down on his face, a face from the hazy memories of his past.

Sam looked wary, "Should I?" He was trying to place the face and the voice. There was something familiar about the kid.

"Well, it has been a long while, I expect I've changed a good deal." Charlie paused, dropping the false accent. "It's me, Charlie." Sam's eyes narrowed as he continued, "Charlie O' Donovan." Then he quickly looked about to be sure no one else was in earshot, then whispered, "Better known to you as Charlie Westen, I suppose."

Sam's jaw dropped open as he leapt out of the lounge chair. "Damn, it is you!" He wrapped his arms around the youth and Charlie was enveloped in an enormous bear hug. Once they broke apart, he shouted to a waitress passing by "Consuelo, get my young friend here a beer."

Charlie shook his head, "That's a nice thought but I'm only eighteen."

"Right. How 'bout an ice tea? Mike's drink of choice." Charlie grimaced slightly at the thought but dared not appear ungrateful. After all, he desperately needed this man's help. Sam stopped cold. "Why are you here, Charlie? Your mom and dad … are they..." He left the words trailing off, unable to say them aloud; afraid of the answer he might receive.

Charlie noted his pained expression and quickly explained, "No, no, they're fine!" He watched as the tension dissipated from Sam's body. "They're fine... at home."

"Jeez, you had me going for a minute." Sam was visibly relieved. "Why didn't they tell me you were coming? I would have picked you up..." Sam watched Charlie's sheepish expression and he began to see the whole picture. "They don't know you're here, do they?"

"Not likely. They think I'm in Amsterdam." Charlie gave a weak smile but he was met with a scowl.

"Crap." The older man was clearly not pleased to hear that Charlie pulled a fast one on his parents, but what do you expect, often the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. This was definitely a stunt that both Mike and Nate might try. "Why aren't you in that fancy-smancy college you got in to? Fi was strutting like a proud peacock over that one." Sam's curiosity was in overdrive trying to figure out exactly what Charlie's presence in Miami meant.

"Still planning on attending but I decided to take a gap year. You know, travel a bit before I get bogged down with my studies." Charlie explained somewhat hesitantly as Sam's instincts told him there was something else going on.

"Yeah, that's what you told Mike and Fi." He wanted to let Charlie know he wasn't fooled by that explanation. "Did they buy that load of bull?"

Charlie gave him a mischievous look. Reluctant to point out the obvious since he was standing on the pool deck over four thousand miles from home, he thought his presence indicated that they did. Sam scowled and continued, "So, why are you really here?"

Charlie knew that he needed Sam's help, he needed an ally, and who better than his parents' most trusted best friend. "I need to see where it all happened. I need to put some old memories to rest, pay respects to those who made my very life possible. I need..." Charlie paused, searching for words to convey the need propelling him forward on this quest. He looked at Sam hoping he somehow would understand.

"I get it, kid." Sam could see that Charlie sought answers for himself and nothing would dissuade him from pursuing his objective. It reminded him of another Westen, all those years ago. He knew the mindset of this kid, probably as stubborn as Madeline and Mike, so there was no point in arguing with him. He had a choice to make. Either he could help the kid sort out whatever he was going through or send him on his merry way, alone, knowing he wasn't gonna give up and go home. "So, where you staying?"

"Place in South Beach through the couch surfing website." Charlie was encouraged by the change in Sam's questions.

"Couch surfing? You mean, like you stay in some guy's place that you never met?" Charlie nodded. The arrangement had worked well, better than he expected. "Oh, boy, that sounds like a great idea!" His expression and tone clearly indicated that he didn't think it was a sound idea at all. "Listen, this hotel has what, like five hundred rooms. Let's get your gear and we'll set you up here. We need a good cover story to have this whole situation make sense. We'll say you're my great nephew, visiting from Michigan. And you're name is Chuck Finley, the third. Got it."

Charlie nodded. This was working out better than he had ever expected. He recruited Sam into his plans and he now was going to be able to stay in this amazing place. There was a spring in his step as he went to collect his things. Sam watched Charlie disappear through the glass doors. He shook his head as he watched his exit, mumbling to himself, "Mike and Fi are gonna kill me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael was slightly surprised how seamless the transition of having Fiona partner with him in the garage had occurred. With her expertise, they were able to make repairs in a timelier manner. She was a quick study, learning techniques needed for some of the newer electronics with ease. Truth be told, pink haired Deirdre proved an unexpected asset in the front office. She was pleasant and friendly, a far cry from Fi's often abrasive attitude toward some customers. She efficiently handled the phone, set up appointments, and even made tea for those waiting for service. He had more than a few compliments about the new addition to the staff. Similarly, Fi was happier with her hands covered in grease, working side by side with Michael, just as she always had wanted. They missed Charlie, his laugh, his presence, but his absence prompted them to revisit the past, why they began an improbable relationship, how they became a couple. In some ways, they were falling in love all over again.

A phone call from Charlie right on schedule assured Fiona that all was well. Michael, on the other hand, was a bit unsettled by the conversation. There was an undercurrent of unease that he picked up on. Perhaps, Charlie was not divulging everything about his travels. After all, Charlie was in Amsterdam, a place of great beauty, but there was another side to the city. There were some pursuits that may lure a young man on a gap year who was away from his parents, into questionable behaviour. He hoped that if Charlie indulged, he would take the necessary precautions. He and Fiona had lectured him long and often about such matters.

Michael recalled being a young man in a foreign country, temptation all around him. He was forever practical, always circumspect about this and nearly every other aspect of his life. He had really only let his guard down once, throwing caution to the wind. He smiled at the memory. There had been instant attraction and an abundance of unprotected sex. It was completely out of character for him but it was almost beyond his control. He had never felt like that before, he never thought he would, but he fell hard for a woman that was all wrong for him on so many levels. He knew that he was playing with fire both professionally, since getting romantically involved with an asset was fraught with complications, as well as, personally, after all, he was supposed to be engaged. Then, he had been called to task for it.

Tom Card, the man he respected the most in the world, the man who later betrayed him, the man he killed with a bullet at point blank range, set up a covert meeting while he was undercover, never a good sign while you're in the midst of a mission. They met on a bench on St. Stephen's Green. Michael was the first to speak, "Must be important to call a meet. What's going on?"

"What's going on?" Tom chuckled. "That's what I'm here to find out. Seems my protégée is thinking with the wrong head these days! Good chance you're gonna blow this whole operation." Michael feigned ignorance planting a puzzled expression on his face so Card continued, "I'm talking about Fiona Glenanne. Ring a bell?"

"My asset. I told you she was giving us info about the gun shipment ..." Michael couldn't meet Card's gaze as he interrupted.

"I know what she is supposed to be doing for you, for us, but it seems like you found a few other uses for her talents." He let his words hang in the air, waiting for a response, but there was only silence. "I don't care if you do a nasty jig with every _cailin_ on the Emerald Isle here. But with that one it stops now. I am not having one of our top field agents sleeping with a foreign arms dealer with ties to the IRA that he met while under a cover ID." Card's tone was firm. There was no room for negotiation about this issue. "Got it?"

Michael knew he was right. He nodded. Before Card left the park, he suggested, "Take a break. Go to Amsterdam for the weekend. Sow your wild oats there, for God's sake. Then, come back here and get your head," knocking on Michael's skull, "back in the game." With that, he was gone.

Michael sat for a long while on the bench that day mulling over Card's words. He knew that he was right. He knew that he should stay away, find another asset. He also knew that he wouldn't.

"Penny for your thoughts," Fi breezed into the garage finding Michael lost in his own memories. "You were a million miles away just now."

"Just thinking about Charlie. Sounds like he's enjoying Amsterdam." Michael quickly returned to the present.

"Well, it doesn't exactly sound as if he's seen too many sights. I prefer not to think about how he's actually spending his time there. I hope he realises I'm much too young to be a grandmother." Apparently, Fi had a few concerns of her own.

Michael smiled at the thought, "Maybe that's why he suggested the whole knitting thing. Get you in the right frame of mind." Fiona shuddered at the thought.

"It was good to hear his voice, know that he's safe." Fiona closed the gap between herself and Michael. "Frees my mind to think of other things." She leaned into Michael, their lips meeting at once, all thoughts of work and Charlie quickly disappearing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Se**_

Sam Axe was not a happy man at the moment. He couldn't even finish his beer as he reflected on the new situation he unexpectedly found himself in. The kid shows up out of the blue in Miami. Mike and Fi think he's backpacking around Europe, which has its own risks. And now, he's been made an accessory to the whole business. This was not the day he had planned: some pool time followed by lunch, a massage, and a nap. Instead, he was babysitting!

He got Charlie settled into his new digs explaining the surprise visit of his 'great-nephew' to Elsa. He hated lying to her of all people. She was surprised that Sam had never mentioned him before, but greeted him warmly, pleased to be meeting an actual relative of the man she loved.

She set a time for dinner so they would all have time to visit, get to know one another. She was anxious to learn more about Sam's family. Sam cringed at the thought, wondering how they were going to pull this off. He really didn't want to divulge that 'Chuck' was actually Charlie Westen returned from the grave or the clutches of a child abductor, whichever story you wanted to believe. There was really only one thing left to do. He needed a little help. He picked up the phone. "Hey, Jesse, free for lunch. I'm buying. Meet me at The Carlito in about an hour. Great see you then!" Before he hung up he added one more tidbit, "Oh, by the way, I'm bringing along a friend." Sam sighed audibly. It was going to be a long few days.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour later having successfully navigated Miami traffic and found a parking space, Sam with Charlie in tow arrived at the restaurant at the appointed hour. Sam spotted Jesse instantly. He was sitting at their usual table, eyes closed, almost appearing to be asleep. He didn't even move as they approached. "Hey, Jesse, rough night? " Sam asked his long-time buddy.

"Just catching a few Z's. Thought I'd take advantage of the quiet. Four kids under the age of ten - my house is never quiet." Jesse had met Alina not long after he and Sam had begun working together. She might have started as a client but quickly became much more. After a life of missed opportunities, Jesse was not about to let this one pass him by. He knew first hand how fickle fate could be. He took the plunge, marrying quickly, children following at routine intervals. Sam had never seen his friend so happy. A man who grew up without family, now found himself surrounded by his own, as well as Alina's numerous relatives. Jesse was definitely a loner no longer!

Jesse brushed aside his sleepiness coming fully awake. Sam mentioned he was bringing a friend but he had not expected to see a young man. He inwardly groaned feeling the older man was setting him up to take on a new client. "This must be your 'friend', Sam. What happened, he lose his puppy or something?" His grin brightened his face.

Sam attempted to explain, "This here is my nephew. Let's call him 'Chuck'."

"Okay." Jesse noticed the very strange expression on his friend's face, unsure exactly how to read it, and it made him wary. "Nice to meet you, 'Chuck'." He placed a strange emphasis on the name.

Sam continued, "Uh, actually, you've met before." Jesse's brow furrowed trying to place the name or the face but nothing came immediately came to mind. The young man did look familiar but... "He lived here for a while. Left here about fifteen years ago right after his grandmother died." Jesse's jaw dropped. His eyes focused on Charlie, a smile erupting upon the realisation of just who was standing before him. "Damn, little man, you all growed up!" He put out his hand ready for a fist bump, wondering if Charlie remembered. Charlie returned the greeting. "Guess you're way too big for my piggy back rides now. You got some height on you, maybe we'll shoot a few hoops instead."

Charlie began to relax and sat in the chair before him. "I'm better with my feet. But I'd give it a go." He prattled on about his sport of preference - football, his own exploits, as well as, his favourite teams. Nervousness spurred him to dominate the conversation.

Jesse had time to observe the young man during this time. Now he could see it so clearly. He looked like Nate, a much younger version than the Nate he had known. He was taller than he remembered Nate had been and leaner, too. "Well, if you're gonna be a player, we're gonna need to put some meat on those bones. What's your mama been feeding you, boy?"

"Uh, Jesse," Sam noted, "think about who his 'mama' is. She's probably been feeding him tofu and salad. Maybe a blueberry or two for dessert."

Charlie broke in, "And yoghurt. There's always plenty of yoghurt." At this all three joined together in laughter.

But then Jesse's mood darkened, "Speaking of your 'mama' is she here... are they here?" Something must be very wrong for Charlie to be in Miami without warning.

Charlie looked sheepish as he was trying to find the words to explain his current situation. Jesse recognised that expression. It was one of Mike's. It was the look he got when he didn't exactly want to tell the truth but knew a lie wouldn't do.

"Oh, boy, I know that look." Sam apparently had the same thought. "Let me see if I got this right. Your parents are fine at home thinking you are backpacking through Europe."

Jesse groaned, "Oh, man, they don't know you're here?" Charlie shook his head. Jesse shot Sam a look and then sunk into his chair. The day had been so full of promise but now the outlook seemed much less sunny. "And I suppose you want us to keep it from them? That you are here in Miami? With us?" Jesse's eyes widened.

"That's the idea." Charlie tried to sound confident.

Jesse was no longer smiling. He glared at Sam who shrugged his shoulders, not loving the idea, but seeing no alternative. "I can't believe you, Sam. Keep this from those two? Okay, maybe we could eventually make Mike see the logic behind our actions, but with Fi, we'll be checking the undercarriages of our cars for months wondering if she planted a little surprise for us!"

"She doesn't do that anymore." Charlie scoffed at the suggestion but he certainly understood the concern. His mam had a temper, of that there was no dispute. "She hasn't for years." Jesse just stared at Sam. Charlie's assessment of the situation did nothing to ease his concerns. He knew the woman pretty well. She might make an exception for such a betrayal as this!

"Just sayin', maybe we should let the kid explain. Maybe he's got a reason for all this cloak and dagger." Sam tried to be open-minded. Charlie felt he had gained an ally but his tone quickly turned. "It better be one helluva good reason."

Charlie understood that he needed to bare all to gain their support. He understood their conflicted emotions. He had those himself. Subterfuge was not something he wanted to willingly engage in but he felt he had no alternative. So he began, "I love my parents with all my heart. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without them..."

But Jesse and Sam could imagine it. If Nate had lived, Charlie would have grown up with a junkie mother and a gambling addicted father. The prognosis for a happy life was not a given. If he had remained with Madeline, who knows how long she would have been able to care for him. She was already pushing seventy when he came to live with her. If anything happened to her, what would have become of Charlie? Fate had intervened placing him in the loving care of those best equipped to raise him and love him. Who would have thought the best place for raising the kid was with a burned spy and his arms dealer girlfriend?

"... But I had to come here. I needed to thank my father and my grandmother in person." His voice began to crack, his accent slipping through. "I know it might not make any sense, and I'm not sure if my parents would understand, but it's just something I must do." He stopped abruptly, his eyes downcast.

Jesse thought back to the mother he loved and lost to violence. He had always felt a bit of a kindred spirit to Charlie when he was young. They both had suffered losses that changed their lives forever. They both were raised by people who loved them. He understood more than most why Charlie felt this desire, a chance for closure, perhaps. Jesse and Sam shared looks of understanding. Sam cleared his throat and then spoke softly, "We get it."

They remained silent for several moments. Then Charlie felt the need to make use of the facilities. Sam pointed him in the correct direction, leaving the two men alone. Jesse spoke a bit harshly to his friend, "What the hell have you gotten us into, Sam?"

"You heard the kid. He wants to visit Nate's and Maddie's graves. Are we really gonna turn our backs on him?" Sam realised they were caught in a hopeless situation.

"Okay. Say we can keep Mike and Fi in the dark." Jesse saw serious complications ahead. "What if someone here in Miami gets wind of this?"

Sam scoffed, "It's a coupla days, Jesse. We show the kid around. Stick him on a plane. What could possibly go wrong?"

"What could go wrong?" Jesse shook his head incredulous at Sam's naïveté. "Sam, this is a Westen we are talking about. A black cloud kinda hovers over all their heads. Think back to the old days."

"Afraid that hell is about to rain down on us?" Sam laughed as he discounted the possibility. "This isn't Mike. It's Nate's kid."

Now it was Jesse's turn to call out Sam, "Oh, that's right. Nate's kid. He never got into any trouble!"

Charlie returned and noted the strange expressions on the faces of his lunch partners. "Everything all right?" Jesse leaned back in his chair trying to find a way to extricate himself.

Charlie turned serious. "You know, I remember that day. Bits and pieces, anyway. I remember you getting me out of there." He looked at Jesse, his eyes a bit moist. "I'm glad I have the chance to say t'anks."

Jesse's heart melted. There was no way he could walk away, no way he could refuse to help this young man whatever the risks. Sam noted the change in Jesse immediately. A pact was sealed. Sam was the first to speak, "Alrighty, then. We roll the dice. Hope we get you out of a Miami before Tinkerbell finds out."

"Tinkerbell?" Charlie was puzzled.

"Long story. Maybe I'll tell it to you on the way to the airport when you're trip is coming to an end. In the meantime, let's get some grub. Then we'll head out, pay a visit to Maddie." Sam smiled remembering his friend. "But first, we'll take a little side trip. You game, Jesse?" Jesse nodded somehow deciphering Sam's intent.

"Marianna, two beers and an ice tea- without ice, por favore!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charlie had put himself into the two men's care but he was completely baffled by where they were taking him. They were in the midst of an industrial area. He wasn't sure what possible interest could lie within these buildings. Before long they turned into what appeared to be a storage facility, rows upon rows of large lockers lined the alleys. Finally, they came to a stop. Sam grabbed some keys from his glove compartment and all three exited the car. Charlie followed along as Sam began opening the padlock of one of the compartments.

Before rolling back the door, Sam paused, tossing Charlie the keys. "Here. Take these. I have another set but you should hold onto those. This is Mike's. He kept some of his more, let's say, private stuff in here, stuff he didn't want others to know about. After he left, Jesse and I put a few other things in here, too. Things we thought he might want some day if he ever came back. Some of Fi's stuff, too. So, really, someday all this will be yours." Then, he pushed the door up, opening the room to view. Shelves covered every wall, boxes of every shape and size filled them. There were some paintings, a large wooden "F", and some snow globes along one wall. But what caught Charlie's attention was an extremely large object covered with a tarp in the centre of the room. The three of them stood motionless for a moment until Sam finally spoke, "Well, aren't you going to unwrap it?" Charlie grabbed one corner of the tarp and pulled. Slowly, a car began to emerge. There before him was a black 1973 Charger. "It was Mike's. Before him, it was Frank's, your granddad." Charlie was a bit of a car guy, working in a garage it couldn't be helped. He ran his hand over the metal, admiring the muscle car from years past. "Still runs like a charm. Jesse and I take turns driving her around town. Lots of good memories there."

Then Jesse added, "Some not so good. I remember Mike blowing her up. Next thing I knew I had a piece of rebar in my leg."

Charlie opened the door and slipped inside. He was familiar with small cars, the cost of petrol very dear in his part of the world. This car was like an ocean liner, huge and magnificent.

"Thought you might like to take her out for a spin." Sam's smile was warm and genuine. Charlie nodded enthusiastically. "Let's take it around the block so you can get a feel for it. Then we'll head out. Deal?"

"Deal." Jesse and Sam began to relax. The three settled into the Charger. For Sam and Jesse it was like greeting an old friend. Soon, a Westen would be at the wheel driving through the streets of Miami and all would be right with the universe once again... at least temporarily.


	7. Chapter 7

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Seacht**_

"You know, most visitors come to Florida for the beaches, the clubs, hell, even Disneyworld," Jesse turned to his two companions, "but a decaying building that should have been demolished years ago, not so much."

They stood across the river from the old Miami Herald Building. It had been vacant for years as city planners and concerned citizen groups argued about its fate and the property's future. Without agreement and countless lawsuits, the place stood empty, a hulking reminder of the past.

Charlie peering through Sam's binoculars found what he was looking for. "There. That must be the spot where they made their exit." He passed them to Sam.

"Yeah. That's about right." Sam thought it was curious that this site made Charlie's Miami "To Do" list but he was happy to comply.

Charlie just stared for a while. "They could have really died here that day. I could have lost them all." Jesse and Sam caught each other's eyes, unsure on how to respond. Charlie gave it a final inspection and then turned toward the Charger, Sam and Jesse trailing behind. He slid behind the driver's seat, feeling a bit awkward on the wrong side of the car. He liked the feel of the vehicle, the power of the motor. He could easily see how Michael could have become quite attached to it and why his friends had preserved it.

Soon, they were on their way, Sam navigating. He was impressed by the youngster's confidence, not cowed by the traffic or the speed of the highways. Downtown slipped away as they neared their destination. A pall descended over the occupants of the vehicle in contrast to the deep green and bright flowers dotting the landscape.

"Turn left and park along the side of the road. We'll walk in from here." Sam gave his directions and then grew silent. All three were lost in their own thoughts. Both Sam and Jesse were frequent visitors here, unbeknownst to the other. Jesse often brought flowers, as he did today, in tribute to his surrogate mother. Sam would have liked to bring beer, sharing it with his friend as he so often did around her dining room table, but he refrained. Both men thought of Nate, a constant screw-up with a heart of gold, who together with ditzy Ruth had somehow produced this amazing young man.

He pointed toward the place where they were resting, Charlie leading the way. They were laid out all in a row, nearly the entire Westen family. This was the legacy Michael's involvement in the CIA had cost. A silver star on some wall little consolation for someone grieving for the people he would never know. A grandfather long dead that left scars on those closest to him. A father that he had no memories of, just a photo and some stories linking them together. A grandmother that he had slivers of memories about, a deep laugh, the scent of Nicorette gum, the warmth of a bedtime story. An empty grave- Michael Westen chiseled into the headstone. He felt a chill despite the Miami heat. A space meant for his da that would never be filled. The only one missing from this family plot was his mother, Ruth. Rehab had not worked for this tortured soul, the loss of her only son too great an agony. An overdose, accidental it was said, claimed her. She was laid to rest in Las Vegas where happiness had almost found her.

He dropped to his knees, crossed himself, and prayed silently. He thanked them for their sacrifice, he thanked them for his life, he thanked them for helping mold him into the man he was becoming, a man forever grateful to them all. He smiled as a sense of peace overcame him.

He wiped away a few tears and stood up slowly dusting off his knees. Soon he was flanked by Sam and Jesse. The tall man gently placed a bouquet of flowers on Madeline's grave, no words were necessary. The three stood as sentinels, the slight breeze rustling the leaves above them providing the only sounds about them.

Sam was the first to speak, "As much as miss Maddy, I sure don't miss her cooking. Chocolate cookies as hard as bricks. Salads with cigarette ash."

"Oh, man, you're complaining about the food, what about the air? That house was so thick with smoke you could cut it with a knife. It took my lungs two years to recover once I moved out." Jesse needed to add his own comment.

Both men continued to reminisce sharing stories and memories of the family that Charlie barely knew. The mood at the gravesite shifted from grief to celebration, giving flesh to the skeletons of Charlie's memories. There was soft laughter and warm thoughts but eventually it was time to say goodbye. Charlie made a final stop at each headstone, biding his family goodbye, a final word of thanks, and then turned away, his main quest complete.

Sam placed an arm around Charlie's shoulders as they headed toward the car. "Now, what else do you wanna see, you know, that doesn't involve babes or beer?"

"I have a few ideas." Charlie smiled. He took a final glance behind him before settling behind the wheel guiding the Charger homeward. Sam and Jesse provided guidance when they weren't arguing about the fastest route and how to avoid the traffic snarls of Miami and it's environs.

They hadn't gone very far when Jesse got a text. "Uh-oh."

"That Alina?" Sam asked.

"I gotta go. I forgot I had bath duty tonight." Jesse was furiously texting, responding to his better half.

"Bath duty?" Sam laughed heartily. "Oh, man, and you used to laugh at Mike and the potpourri."

Jesse was quick to set Sam right. "No! No! No! You will not rain on my bubble magic parade. You haven't lived until you've played mermaids and sea monsters." His smile indicated it was something he truly looked forward to.

Sam shook his head, "You really got to get yourself a boy! There's way too much estrogen in your house."

"I'll be sure to let Alina know you said that." He winked at Sam, and then spoke to Charlie. "We can pick this up tomorrow. Show you some of the other places you wanted to see. You two need to get a move on anyway. Aren't you having dinner with Elsa to welcome your 'nephew'?"

"Crap!" Sam checked his watch noting the time. Charlie found some open road and the Charger rapidly gained speed. Sam watched the speedometer hit eighty, initiating a warning to the driver. "Hey! You got a bit of a lead foot there, kid. Take it down a notch. Elsa wants us, you know, alive at the dinner. Who taught you to drive anyway?"

Jesse quickly pointed out the obvious, "You have to ask?"

"Fi!" All three spoke in unison. Laughter broke out in the car. Charlie was delighted that both men were willing to help him. He only needed one more day and he would have the answers he sought. He sighed contentedly. Everything was going according to plan! He could hardly wait for tomorrow!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Across the ocean, night had already descended. They were wrapped in each other's arms, Michael softly gliding his fingers over her back, both contented in the warm afterglow. Fiona was beginning to drift off but Michael was awake, mulling over something in his head. He spoke softy, "You know, before Charlie left, he suggested that we should, uh, actually get married, go on a honeymoon."

Fiona's eyes popped open. "Did he now?" She shifted her body slightly without making eye contact. "And what did you say?"

"I told him we didn't want to rush into anything." Fiona turned her whole body toward him; a smile crossed her lips, which mirrored the one he wore.

"I suppose he's wanting to make an honest woman of me. Probably hates the idea of his saintly mother acting the harlot." Fiona was clearly enjoying this banter. Michael looked more serious. No quick reply came from him. She noted his expression and spoke from her heart. "Michael, if you think I need a document telling me what I already know, well, I don't. I don't need a piece of paper joining us together." She paused, resting her head on his bare chest. "After all, I have a 9 mm."

Michael relaxed slightly, "And a ring."

Fiona raised her left hand into view admiring the golden band she had worn for over fifteen years. "I do have a ring. Not an Asscher cut but it will definitely do." She smiled remembering the moment shortly after they arrived in Ireland when Michael surprised her with this unexpected gift. They were supposed to be a married couple; in many ways they were, but her barren ring finger told another tale, a glaring red flag to the world, to Charlie.

He had hesitantly presented it to her, "I thought you might like this. You know, for our cover." He had looked her lovingly, standing close, his smile warming her heart. Wordlessly, she held out her left hand, shaking ever so slightly. He slipped the band onto her ring finger, adding, "It will be nice being married to you, Mrs. O'Donovan."

"You, too, Mr. O'Donovan." Her heart nearly exploded with joy that day over this simple act with it's not so simple meaning. A bond forged long before had been sealed first with a ring and then with a kiss.

Fiona's thoughts turned back to the present as she considered Charlie's suggestion. "Honeymoon? Now that has possibilities." Michael grinned and pulled her closer. Sleep could wait a bit longer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Now, remember, just try to say as little as possible. Keep stuffing food in your face and bow out early. Got it!" Sam gave Charlie some last minute advice before opening the door to the penthouse.

"Hey, Beautiful!" Elsa was lighting some candles, the finishing touches on the table set for dinner for three. Sam quickly went to his wife's side gently placing a kiss on her cheek. Elsa Axe was a formidable woman. A successful businesswoman operating a highly successful, upscale hotel on Miami Beach, she exuded power and confidence. Charlie was struck not only by her outward appearance, designer clothes, expensive jewelry, well maintained physique, but more importantly how she comported herself. Even more surprising, she had a genuine smile and a friendly manner that put him quickly at ease.

"Just in time. I'm so glad we could do this. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better, Chuck." Elsa moved toward Charlie, giving him a quick hug of greeting. "Shall we?" She pointed to the table laden with food, the aroma already causing his stomach to rumble with hunger.

Charlie took a deep breath, conscious to use his American accent, "Sorry to put you to any bother. This looks fantastic!" Elsa indicated that they all should sit. "Did you make all this?"

Elsa laughed heartily, "No, if I had made dinner you might have would up with grilled cheese and some canned soup. One of the perks of owning a hotel, you can call room service!"

Charlie caught Sam's eye who clearly wanted this meal to be over as soon as possible, but Elsa clearly had other ideas.

"So Charlie, tell me a little about yourself. Where in Michigan are you from?"

Charlie stopped mid chew, searching for something to say, eventually blurting out, "The mountains." It was the first thing that popped into his mind. He wasn't sure if it had mountains. In fact, he wasn't exactly sure where Michigan was located!

"On the upper peninsula then, it's beautiful there. You must spend a great deal of time on the beaches, as well." Elsa appeared to have some knowledge of the area.

Sam scowled but Charlie had a sense of relief. He did live on a peninsula where there were mountains and beaches. This was proving easier than he thought.

"And what do you do there, Chuck, do you have a job, go to school?" Elsa continued the questioning.

"I'm taking a gap year before I start university next fall." Charlie continued earring between questions, hoping to get his fill before Sam pushed him out the door.

"Which university?"

Sam laughingly jumped in, Charlie's mouth full of food, "Where do you think, baby, University of Michigan? Is there any other?" Lighthearted laughter filled the room but something about Sam's expression, how tense he seemed gave Elsa pause.

"So, how are you related- exactly? Nephew, you said?" Elsa directed the question to Sam, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Sam felt cornered. "Not really a blood relative. You know how you have buddies you're close to, how it feels like family? Well, Chuck here is the son of an old buddy from my military days." He hoped that would put her probing to rest.

"I see." Obviously, she did see something. Sam needed to get Charlie out of here before Elsa gleaned any more information. He kicked Charlie under the table who immediately took the not so subtle hint.

He gulped a last bite of food before starting to rise, "Dinner was grand but I'm completely wrecked. Jet lag." Charlie was hoping it would be an acceptable excuse but he notice Elsa turning toward Sam, an indefinable glare in her eyes. "T'anks again for a lovely meal but I'll be off." Charlie moved swiftly as goodbyes were murmured. He was anxious to get to the safety of his own room. As he moved swiftly down the hallway away from the scene, his path crossed with another, someone who was moving toward the penthouse.

Elsa's eyes never left Sam's. "T'anks? That boy's name is Chuck Finley as much as mine is!"

She paused waiting for an explanation, Sam growing increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze.

As their conversation became somewhat heated, neither noticed the door opening silently. Elsa's son, Evan, slipping in wordlessly, his presence not always wanted these days. He paused in the hallway waiting for their argument to conclude before announcing his unexpected arrival.

"Well, my guess is he is the son of your military buddy. He does live on a peninsula, just not in Michigan. And his name is Charles, he just doesn't go by the nickname Chuck." Sam said nothing, neither confirming nor denying her suspicions. "Really, Sam, Charlie Westen is actually alive and here in Miami?" Her eyes widened in surprise, incredulous that Sam would have kept it from her all these years.

"Charlie Westen." Evan remembered the name and the tragedy surrounding it. "Charlie Westen, alive, and in Miami." This type of information could prove useful. If his mother wasn't going to help him out of the jam he found himself in, maybe he could barter with someone who could. Things were looking up. He stood a little taller and walked into the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Hocht**_

"Hello, mommy dearest." Evan greeted his mother breezily, boosted by the discovery of one Charlie Westen, apparently alive and well in Miami.

"Not a good time, Evan." Elsa wanted to avoid another confrontation with her son. He often showed up unannounced, usually asking for money. Additionally she was in the middle of a rather important discussion with her husband.

Sam's brow was deeply furrowed, trying to hold his tongue. Elsa and Evan had a strained relationship and he hated anything that caused his beloved a moment of happiness. And Evan had provided her with far too many of these moments over the years. The kid, hardly a kid since he was pushing forty, was a constant screw up. Blessed with countless advantages and opportunities, he had squandered every one, breaking his mother's heart with each misadventure.

Evan was full of get-rich-quick schemes preferring that to actual hard work. His mother's name used to open doors for him, lending an air of legitimacy to his ventures. But soon, those areas of funding had dried up and Evan was forced to deal with a far less professional source of capital. This often put him in awkward, if not dangerous, situations, and he had pleaded with his mother once too often to bail him out.

"Whatever hare brained scheme you've come up with this time, your mother is having none of it." Sam stood up planning on escorting the man to the door and locking it behind him.

Evan was snarky, "This doesn't concern you, pool boy. This is between my mom and me so just stay out of it!" The two men looked as if they were about to exchange blows but Elsa quickly intervened.

"Evan, Sam's right. I am not giving you any more money. You're on your own." She looked as of she was about to cry. "I've done all that I could, all that I'm willing to do. Now, just go." She turned away wanting him to leave as soon as possible before her resolve weakened once again.

Evan paused as fury surged through his body. "So, that's how it is. Fine. I'll get the money another way." He glared at his mother, adding, "I guarantee you're going to regret it." Elsa's eyes darted to Sam who showed no reaction, keeping his steely gaze on this interloper. They watched as he stormed out the door as an icy coldness seemed to permeate the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The day began much as the one before. They met once again at The Carlito, Sam and Jesse introducing Charlie to the wonder of the Cuban sandwich.

"Lunch, two days in a row, Jesse? Things slowing down at the office?" Sam asked. They had originally forged a business together, helping people much as they had before as a quartet. But three years ago, Sam retired. He felt his skills were beginning to fade and he might prove a liability in the field. Jesse went through the paperwork and bureaucracy to become a Private Investigator. Recently, he had taken on a partner.

Jesse grinned, "There are some perks being the boss man. Ethan's got it covered." Ethan Reed was a former client, ex-military man. He was pursued by the CIA for his skills and spent a few years as a covert operative before walking away. Once a bit hotheaded, he had developed into a trusted teammate. Now, he and Jesse formed a partnership that benefited them both, as well as, the people of Miami.

After lunch, it was time to venture out into the city. "This time, I'm driving, kid. I want you to get home in one piece." Sam's voice indicated the matter was settled, for now. Charlie figured he would be able to convince him later to switch positions. He had learned that patience was often rewarded, something that Michael had drilled into his training.

Miami traffic was light this time of day. Charlie watched as the city flew by, rain falling gently all around. Finally, they arrived and Charlie got a first glimpse of the place he had long imagined.

"It was here?" Charlie looked around the neighbourhood. The loft and the adjoining nightclub were long gone. A mid-rise building stood in its place but the surroundings still remained iffy at best. It was difficult picturing his parents living here, especially his mother.

"Was the loft as bad as my mam says?" Charlie had listened to Fiona cite the many deficiencies of the place.

Sam quickly interjected, "Worse! For years Mike thought he was gonna be leaving soon. Stuff stored in the corners gathering dust. Squeaky doors. Hell, there was only one decent chair in the place. It was a race to see who would get to sit in it. Fi always claimed the bed. Though she was always very willing to share it with Mike." Sam chuckled at the thought.

"Sam!" Jesse pointed his head toward Charlie, believing this topic of conversation could prove awkward for the young man.

Charlie was reassuring, "No worries. They're the same now. I'm used to it." Fiona had spent too many years unsure exactly where her relationship stood with Michael. Once united and raising Charlie, there was no longer any ambiguity. Fiona was determined that Charlie would grow up in a house where love was present. She believed the best chance for Charlie to break the cycle of the dysfunction of the Westen household was to have a normal family life with parents that not only loved him, but also loved each other. Fiona no longer held back and Michael no longer resisted. Their love filled the cottage and Charlie hoped that one day he would find someone who would complete his life as his parents had. But occasionally, he wished his mother were not quite so open about such matters. No topic was off limits, much to his dismay as a growing teen, and he had turned scarlet on more than one occasion.

"Good to know that some things haven't changed." Sam added. "Anyway, Fi spruced the place up as much as she could after moving in. She actually washed the windows and added curtains, otherwise there were just this big industrial sized windows. Made it hard to sleep past dawn when I stayed there a few times, mostly when one of my former lady friends and I parted company." Sam smiled remembering his days as a bachelor soaking up all that Miami had to offer.

Jesse jumped in, "Man. I remember that bathroom. It was like taking a shower in a dungeon, cramped and kinda mouldy. The day after Fi moved in, she refitted that place. Tiled the shower. Replaced the sink. Even added a few shelves. It made it almost passable." Charlie looked somewhat horrified just thinking about it. Jesse saw Charlie's expression and explained, "Mike spent a lot of time in places like Afghanistan. For him, it wasn't that bad. At least there was indoor plumbing." That observation seemed to make sense to Charlie.

"The biggest issue was the closet. It was the size of a postage stamp and Fi had about a hundred pairs of shoes. She had to keep most of her clothes in that storage locker we visited. Every week she switched out the boxes as she complained to Mikey that there were plenty of places in a Miami with huge closets, air conditioning, and security systems. Sam felt as if it were only yesterday that he was listening to Fi's lamentations. "They were happy here until, you know, when they had to burn it down." All three realised the ridiculousness of that statement that was so typical of their life at the time. "Ready?" Sam asked Charlie while placing a hand on his shoulder. Charlie nodded and they headed back to the car, a few more stops on the itinerary.

It was a short drive to the spot where Madeline Westen's house once stood. The house had burned to the ground, erasing the history of its occupants. A modern split level of stucco and glass now graced the corner looking slightly out of place in the neighbourhood. Charlie struggled to dredge up memories of the place he had called home however briefly, but none were present. This had been a home to both Jesse and Sam at various points in their lives, their memories easily reachable. With nothing left to say, Sam pulled the Charger away from the curb.

There were some other places of note they drove past, some that Charlie wanted to see, and others that Sam or Jesse thought may be of interest to him. The best part of the journey was the stories, this is what he sought, this gave him a connection with his past.

The day was waning. The sunlight softened as they approached the final portion of the tour. They slipped into Coconut Grove Marina. Charlie had memories sharing this spot with grandmother watching the boats slip out to sea and return. Sometimes, they had ice cream during the outing. It was the one true memory he had of Madeline. As the sun began to set, his journey had come to an end. He had seen the sites linked to his past and that of his family. He had heard anecdotes about his parents. He had forged a friendship with the 'uncles' that he had played with as a child. He felt complete as the last rays of sunshine disappeared.

The three men watched the day come to a close. Charlie turned to thank his tour guides. "So, little man, you ready to head home before your mama finds out and kicks our ass?" Jesse smiled as he spoke.

"I think I'll spend a few days playing tourist before I make the crossing. No sense not enjoying the beach first. My return is booked for Friday." Charlie watched as a scantily clad woman about his age pass by.

"Alrighty then." Sam noticed Charlie's lingering gaze. "How 'bout a farewell dinner on Thursday night? Think you can get a sitter, Jesse, and bring Alina along? I bet Elsa would be game. We'll make a night of it. Then, I'll get you to the airport next day." Sam had a plan that appealed to all of them. "Well, look at the time. It's happy hour and I'm buying. Who's thirsty?" They put the marina behind them; Sam and Jesse ready to have one more round with a Westen.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Evan's head was slammed into the table. His head seared with pain as it was lifted once again. He braced himself for what was to come as a voice rang out. "Where's my money? You think I run a charity?"

His hair was clenched in another's fist. He was given the signal to repeat the previous action. Evan felt his head drawn back once again then the table grew closer as he shouted, "I can get the money. Hear me, I can get the money." The attack was halted in mid air, his hair released.

"That's more like it." Carmelo Dante was a businessman, first and foremost. He prided himself on being a reasonable man but he was not swayed by the hard luck stories of his business associates. That's not how he worked himself up to being the biggest heroin supplier in Miami. Carmelo sat across from Evan, a safe distance not wanting any blood to splash across his white linen suit. "And how do you propose to come up with the 300 K, you owe me? Mommy, perhaps?" Evan tuned pale knowing no funds would be willingly available from his mother this time. Carmelo could see the panic in his eyes. He gave the signal to his associate to pound Evan once again to drive home the seriousness of the situation he found himself in.

Another one of his sure fire schemes had gone awry. He had contacts that put him in touch with the drug kingpin. Evan sold himself as a sound investment. If Carmelo could provide a supply of drugs, Evan could provide a wealthy clientele basing his operation out of his mother's high-end hotel. Miami was party central. Many of the hotel guests wanted to experience it all. Evan would be willing to help - for a price. It all made perfect sense until he decided to indulge himself hosting his own parties in a rented Star Island mansion where drugs and alcohol flowed freely, money rarely exchanging hands. Now the debt was due and he was terribly short.

Evan was gripped with fear. He had only one card left to play and he prayed it would be enough. "I know how we can get the money."

"We? I think you misunderstand the nature of our relationship." Carmelo wanted no part of another one of Evan's propositions.

Evan started babbling in an effort to stave off whatever fate Carmelo had in store for him. "There's this kid who's supposed to be dead. Hiding out in my mother's hotel. My mom's hard ass husband has a soft spot for him. If we grab him together, we can hold him for ransom, maybe for more like a half a mil, more than I owe you! We can threaten them with exposure, maybe even approach the National Inquirer. My mom, she'll pay up. She won't want anything to happen to him." Evan began to plead while his tormentor remained expressionless.

"And who is this kid that you expect will bring us a payday." Carmelo was listening. The plan had some possibilities and he was not afraid to get his hands dirty. A dead debtor was no use to him.

Evan saw a glimmer of hope that he might receive a temporary reprieve. "His name is Charlie Westen." Now, Carmelo was definitely interested, a smile crossed his lips. He and Evan were in business.


	9. Chapter 9

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Naoi**_

"Charlie Westen?" Carmelo posed the question immediately. "Any relation to that burned spy running around Miami several years ago that got himself blown up?"

Evan was slightly relieved. At least there was a dialogue between himself and his captor. "Yeah. Nephew, I think." Carmelo acknowledged this information with a nod of his head. Evan believed it to be a signal to continue. "My mom's loser husband is Sam Axe, a former associate of spy guy back in the day. I remember how broken up my mom was at the time. The whole family wiped out, just like that. My mom cried her eyes out at the funeral but Sam, he must have known the kid somehow survived." Evan shook his head in disbelief, "And now, he's hiding out at the hotel. My mom was kinda angry when she found out."

"And just how did a loser like you come to discover this? Did your stepfather invite you to drinks letting you in on this bombshell?" Carmelo was wary that this could be a stalling tactic buying Evan a few more days of walking on unbroken kneecaps.

He explained the circumstances of how he managed to eavesdrop on the conversation. Carmelo had to admit the guy had connections and the situation was plausible, but was it true?

Carmelo sat down. He removed a knife from his jacket pocket and began polishing it with his handkerchief. "Okay, say I believe your story that this kid, Charlie Westen, is really alive and is who he says he is, how does that help me get my money?"

The action was meant to intimidate. Carmelo Dante was not to be trifled with, his time not to be wasted. The message was clearly delivered. Evan tried to keep his voice from shaking. He had to show confidence if he had any hope of survival. "Like I said before, we grab the kid. Hold him for ransom. My mother may have cut me off but she won't let that kid die. She'll pay up... whatever it takes."

"What about your stepdad? Think he's just gonna roll over. He used to be quite a player, I remember. I had a rather unpleasant experience with Axe once upon a time." Carmelo kept his eyes focused on the knife in his hands.

"He's like seventy years old. All he's good for these days is drinking my mom's booze and flirting with every skirt around the pool."

Silence descended on the room as Carmelo processed all that he heard. It was a huge mistake getting into business with this guy. Beating him to a pulp might be a pleasant diversion and send a message to others, but he was never going to recoup his money that way. The proposal had possibilities. If this information were true, he would regard it as a win-win. Either he would get the money owed him, perhaps a little extra, or he could extract his payment another way.

Michael Westen had been a thorn in his side for years. The burned spy once threatened to blow up the nightclub he worked out of in South Beach. He called it _"assured mutual destruction."_ He was willing to take himself out as well as Carmelo and his guys. Another time, he was unwittingly used as an asset for the CIA. Sam Axe had been a pawn in the game set up by Westen. Both times Carmelo threatened to kill Michael if he showed up again. He never got the chance. Carmelo never had another face to face with Westen but that did not mean their paths did not cross. The bastard shot and killed some CIA hot shot. They rounded up every known associate of Westen, including him! He spent several days answering questions while others attempted to take over his business during his incarceration. Once he was released, things were messy for a while as he reestablished power. A turf war followed that resulted in the loss of some of his best corner boys. Westen had once again interfered with his livelihood! He never had the chance to extract his revenge since the man got blown to bits some months later. If Evan's ransom plans didn't work out, he could use the kid to pay his uncle's debt. Ransom or revenge, he would be satisfied either way.

Carmelo slid the knife back into its sheath, replacing it in his jacket, at least for now. "You got a deal. We'll try it your way." Evan finally took a breath; relieved the threat of the knife had been removed. "But if mommy doesn't come through, you and the kid will be gator food. Comprendez?" Evan nodded weakly. This was no idle statement. It was a promise. It had to work, his life depended on it.

The drug lord looked at his unlikely partner. He shouted to his underlings, "One of you, go get us some food. It's going to be a long night, we have a kidnapping to plan!"

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She walked into the cottage after a day catching up with the accounts. Her brain was addled, being huddled over a desk for the majority of the afternoon. The good news is that they were doing quite well financially. Business at the garage continued to grow over the years and now that she was more involved in the hands-on operation in the back, there was potential to grow even more. Fiona was greeted by an unusual but welcome sight. The table was set for two, a vase of flowers adorned the table, and candles were alight shedding a soft glow throughout the room. Michael was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on tonight's dinner. The aroma wafting toward her immediately made her mouth begin to water.

Michael caught her gaze and noted her surprise. She walked slowly toward him taking note of all of his preparations. He watched intently as she drew closer. Once at his side, she lifted the lid of the pan catching a glimpse of its contents. "Chicken Tikka Masala?" Michael nodded.

Fiona's expression was filled with suspicion. "The last time you surprised me with a dinner like this, I woke up to an empty bed and I didn't see you for years. Something you'd like to tell me? Leaving the country any time soon?"

"Kinda." Michael grinned but Fiona was not amused. She folded her arms and waited for an explanation. He reached for the wine he had just opened and prepared to pour them each a glass. "Wine?"

Fi just stared becoming increasingly annoyed. "I'm not sure. Perhaps, I need something stronger."

"Wine should be fine." He poured slowly. "I got you something." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the counter with his hand while Fi watched every movement.

"A goodbye letter, perchance?" None of Michael's actions were lessening her anxiety.

"Why don't you open it?" Michael's smile seemed to indicate nothing was amiss. Still, this was Michael Westen. He had been very predictable over the past fifteen years but over her entire history with the man, she had learned to always expect the unexpected.

She picked up the envelope, slowly removing its contents. She steeled herself to accept whatever fate was about to deliver. It held a single piece of paper. She read it quickly. Her eyes darted to Michael, then returned to the page. "Paris? We're going to Paris? Her mouth dropped in amazement. This was a wonderfully unexpected surprise and completely out of character for her beloved.

"You said you wanted a honeymoon. I thought Paris might do." He had planned everything, hoping to surprise her with a trip of her dreams. It was years overdue! "You, me, a small hotel in the 4th Arrondissement. I was thinking maybe some champagne on the Place des Vosges. What do you think?"

She uttered no verbal response but heaved her body on his. She found his lips easily, all her worry dissipated in an instant. Michael laughed, "I'll take that as a yes."

"Can we afford this?" Fiona's practical side began to appear.

"You tell me. You're the one who does the books." He paused before adding, "It's only for five days and we're not exactly staying at The Ritz..."

Fi jumped in, "I don't care if we're staying in a cardboard box. It's Paris!" She read the information again, still trying to convince herself that this was real. "Will there be time for shopping on Avenue Montaigne?" Fi remembered one of her favourite spots.

"Window shopping, anyway. We're on a budget." Michael wanted her expectations to be realistic.

A shadow crossed her face. "Michael, this is beyond wonderful, but this...this is risky. Leaving Ireland? Who knows whom we may run into from our past? It's a lovely idea but..." Her words drifted off as she realised the difficulties involved in such a journey.

Michael was prepared to address these concerns. He, too, had considered all the eventualities for such a trip. "We have been the models of respectability over the past fifteen years, with a few exceptions." He thought back to the brief encounter with Thomas O'Neill that nearly disrupted their peaceful existence. "We did it for Charlie but it's not wholly who we are." Michael spoke from the heart, Fiona hanging on his every word. "Charlie's grown. We've taught him all that we can. He's ready to live his own life."

He thought back to another time and place, another planned trip a lifetime ago. It was an excursion oozing with potential danger but the woman at his side never hesitated. Her desire for togetherness overrode all other considerations, then and now. He paused, "Maybe it's time we have a life of our own." He cradled her face softly with his hands. "I thought we'd start with Paris. It may be slightly dangerous but I'm willing to risk it, if you are."

A smile brightened her face. She picked up her glass ready to toast. Michael mirrored her actions. "To Paris!" Their glasses clinked in celebration, ready to embark on their own private adventure.

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The next morning, Evan accompanied by two of Carmelo's underlings held watch outside the hotel. Their assignment was to identify the target and look for an opportunity to snatch him in a private location if at all possible. Another pair sat in their car in the hotel garage, ready to tail their prey if he exited the location in a vehicle. Evan's focus was limited at best. As the hours dragged on, he found himself increasingly impatient. He wished he could take a break, rest his eyes, have a drink, but as he was the only one who could point out the younger Westen, his presence was mandatory. Then, he emerged!

Evan spotted him immediately. "There!" He pointed toward the young man. One of Carmelo's thugs quickly pulled down his arm, hoping the action had not been noticed. The two men glared at their charge who was clearly out of his element. Luckily, the young man they sought seemed oblivious. He strode through the lobby, decked out in beachwear, and headed to the parking structure. A quick call to those stationed there put them on alert. Within moments, they picked up the chase, watching as the young man approached a black Charger. Both men smiled, tailing such an identifiable car should be child's play. They slowly pulled away keeping a safe distance behind. They were in constant communication with Evan and his companions exchanging positions at frequent interval as to not draw attention to their pursuit.

At first it appeared the young man was simply cruising the avenues paralleling the beaches. He seemed to be driving in circles, joy riding with no clear destination. And to a large extent, they were correct. Charlie sported a pair of sunglasses, the windows down, the music up. He was enjoying the feel of the muscle car and the notice it drew from the hordes of tourists, especially the young women, flocking to Miami's sunny beaches. The car was practically an antique, a far cry from the small, energy efficient cars of the current time. He was thrilled that Sam had insisted he take advantage of the use of these wheels while he remained in town. But eventually the disadvantage of driving in hot, humid Miami without air conditioning was evident and Charlie longed for a quick swim to cool off. Now the hunt began, searching for a parking space; the additional challenge for it to be large enough for the Charger.

He roamed up and down the crowded streets as his tail became increasingly frustrated. One of the cars parked quickly, it's occupants finding it easier to track the slow moving vehicle on foot. The other continued to circle. Then, Charlie achieved what he thought was a victory. He turned down a narrow alley and slipped in behind a car just pulling out of the space. Carmelo's men hung back waiting for an opportunity. It came within seconds!

Charlie headed toward the boot ready to cart out the beach chair and towel that Sam had supplied. As he leaned over into the massive space, he was accosted from behind. Dante's minions rushed to the spot. No witnesses were present at the moment. There was not a moment to lose. A gun was pushed into Charlie's back while another bashed him on the head. His knees immediately buckled. He had no time to react, no time even to shout for help before all went black.

The car carrying Evan and the others pulled up alongside the Charger. Charlie's limp body was quickly shoved in the trunk. Carmelo's men jumped in zooming away with their captive. Their boss would be pleased, perhaps giving them each a cut of the ransom. It was just another day in sunny Miami!


	10. Chapter 10

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Deich**_

Searing pain greeted him upon awakening. His head throbbed and he struggled to open his eyes. He was completely disoriented, unsure of why his body was in such discomfort, his arms unable to move. Slowly, the fog began to clear and he was able to open his eyes. The light around him was dim making it difficult to see. His eyes began to adjust after several moments and he observed the room about him.

He was alone. He was shackled to a chair, hands zip tied behind his back. The room was small and untidy. It looked like it may be used for storage, random items strewn about. There was a single wooden door with a deadbolt lock. Two rectangular small windows lined the top of opposite walls. They provided some cross ventilation but no view of his location. Still, it was somewhat stifling as the air was hot and heavy.

Charlie struggled to remember how he managed to be in this predicament. He was planning on a day at the beach. His attire confirmed this thought. He cruised along Ocean Drive before beginning the search for parking. He remembered finding a spot on a narrow alley some blocks away. He saw no one approach but felt the blow. He had made such a rookie mistake! His parents continually warned him to never let his guard down in unfamiliar surroundings, not to get distracted. They had drilled into him countless times to take time to survey the surroundings. Look for suspicious activity before remaining in an area. Here, he had ignored all the warnings on one of his first outings. He had assured them that he was ready for an adventure, that he was prepared for the world and its dangers. Apparently, his confidence was misplaced. It was a far cry from theory to practice.

He swallowed the bitter taste of fear. He was a captive! His hubris may have cost him his life, his parents never knowing what had become of him. He began to panic, his heart racing. He closed his eyes and willed himself to think, use the lessons that he had been taught. His mam's voice sounded in his head. "Charlie, _I want you to try this relaxation technique I use in situations like this._ _I want you to close your eyes and breathe deep. Picture a peaceful mountain stream. Now picture yourself drowning the kidnapper in the stream. You're taking a rock from the stream and raising it over your head and with tremendous force..." _The thought made him smile, his breathing returning to normal, his panic slightly dissipating.

Now, it was Michael's voice that took over. "If you find yourself in a situation where someone has taken you against your will, the first step is not to panic. Your initial instinct may be to fight, but that might be a waste of energy; energy that may better serve you later. You need to gather as much information as possible about your location and your captors using whatever senses are available to you. Then, assess the threat and act accordingly. Look for weaknesses in the security and make your move when lapses occur. Keep calm and you just might survive your ordeal - with a little luck." Michael was forever giving him advice such as this. Charlie had stored it all away; never truly believing it would be needed.

With his eyes still closed, he concentrated on his environment. There was a smell of the sea about the place. A body of water likely was near the site. He heard the muffled sound of cars moving on a nearby road. The noise was sporadic indicating a residential road rather than a highway or major thoroughfare. He heard no people moving about, picked up no aroma of food cooking or bodies close together. This led him to surmise he was in an outbuilding of some sort rather than a main house. He assumed there were others, unseen, on the property, and at some point they would make their presence known. These facts could prove useful if he was able to make an escape.

Charlie eventually opened his eyes preparing to focus on himself next. His head continued to throb but all his faculties seemed intact. He saw no blood anywhere on his person. He pressed his thigh slightly sideways on the chair to ascertain what remained in the pockets of his board shorts. The few dollars that he carried, as well as the key to the Charger remained. He could not feel the hard imprint of his Irish driver's license. It must be in the hands of his kidnappers. Why take only that, leaving the rest behind? So many questions swirled through Charlie's mind.

He flexed and stretched every body part that was moveable keeping the blood flowing and prevent his muscles from cramping or tightening up. He needed to be able to react quickly if given the chance. When he had completed all the tasks that ran through his memory, he forced himself to rest. Michael had warned him often that fatigue and stress are the biggest enemies in any situation. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and tried to clear his mind of worries. Fate had dealt him an unexpected blow but at least his parents had given him tactics to face the unexpected. Charlie remembered his mam's mandate to "keep his wits about him". He intended to do just that. Maybe then, he would survive.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Michael opened the door he was struck by a scene he had not seen in years. The room before him had been ransacked, clothes and shoes strewn all about. He immediately grabbed the gun they kept in the umbrella stand near the front door, a habit continued from the old days. He held the gun steadily as he began to search for intruders. He scanned the room moving stealthily toward the bedrooms. A sound drew his attention. He continued forward as a door swung open and a figured emerged.

"What the hell are you doin' with that thing?" Fiona expressing her displeasure that a weapon was pointed in her direction. She glided swiftly past him, her arms filled with fabric.

Michael lowered the weapon immediately, placing it in the small of his back. He followed behind, a confused look upon his face. "I thought ... " He looked around as Fiona laid more clothes on every solid surface in the cottage. "What the hell are you doing?" Michael threw the question back at her. There was an angry edge to his voice.

"Packing." She opened her arms and pointed toward the mass of clothing.

"Packing?" Michael cocked his head as he surveyed the room again. He focused on the placement of the objects. What at first glance appeared to be a random sprawl, he now observed a deliberate pattern. Assorted dresses to the left, blouses and shirts in every colour toward the right, in the centre there were jeans and trousers, piles of shoes in each direction.

"Yes, Michael, packing. It's what people do when they're preparing for a trip." Fiona kept her eyes focusing on her task, making another pile, this one on the sofa.

Michael was still a bit perplexed. "Is this about Paris?" Fi nodded slightly not taking her eyes off of a red minidress that began life as a designer gown. Some of her possessions, carefully packed by Sam and Elsa, had been shipped to her family after her disappearance. "You do realise it's not for another month, right?"

She sighed in frustration. "Yes. I am very well aware of that fact, Michael. But as you can clearly see, I have nothing to wear!" Michael looked again at the immense pile in front of him. He was completely baffled, unsure how to respond. There were clothes in every corner of the cottage. "At least, nothing really suitable for Paris but I think I can make a few things work after some alterations." She held up a blue strapless dress against her body and turned toward Michael. "What do you think?"

Michael hated this type of trick question. Was he supposed to like it or hate it? He tried to read her expression but found no clue. Her eyebrows were raised as she awaited his answer. He opened his mouth to speak but Fiona was infuriated by his hesitation. "Oh, you're impossible!" She stormed off leaving a path of destruction in her wake. He wiped a hand over his face wishing Charlie were here. He would likely have some quick retort to make his mam laugh.

Michael sifted through the pile. He picked up one of her many white dresses. This had always been one of his favourites. He smoothed the fabric with his fingers bringing a smile to his lips. Fiona would look beautiful whatever she selected. Maybe that's all that she really needed to hear. He headed toward the bedroom with his offering and his love. The countdown to Paris, years in the making, had begun!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Evan had been summoned. Carmelo sat in a chair as large and grand as a throne flipping what appeared to be a driver's license though his fingers. Evan's new constant companions pushed him forward. "Ah, there he is, my new partner. I hope you are enjoying the company of these two," the drug kingpin indicated the two men flanking him, "they will be with you until our business is completed." Evan realised that he had little choice in the matter. "I am curious about our 'guest'. He was carrying this." Carmelo held up the license. "This says our little friend is named Charles Gerald O'Donovan. Not Westen." Evan turned pale. "It also lists his address as some place I've never heard of- in Ireland." Carmelo rose, striding over to where Evan stood motionless. "Why is that?'

He had no answers, just conjecture. "I don't know!" Panic could be heard in his voice. "All I know is that Axe and my mom think the kid is legit. Maybe he's pulling some kind of con. They'll pay up." Evan prayed that last statement was true.

"They will or you will." Carmelo glared at him, letting his words sink in. "Deliver our terms tonight. They've got 48 hours to comply - after that ..." He did not need to finish the sentence, the message left no uncertainty as to the intent. A flick of his head let his men know that it was time to go. It was time for Evan to confront his mother. It was time to make her pay.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Forge had been a Miami institution for decades. Elsa booked the private wine cellar for their parting dinner. The couples sat opposite each other, saving the head of the table for the guest of honour. Sam checked his watch once again. Jesse noticed the action and asked, "You sure he knew it was tonight?"

"Yeah. Talked to him this morning before he headed out for the day." It was an unsettling feeling for the men. Punctuality was ingrained in them as Mike had once noted that for an operative _"showing up on time means you're fifteen minutes late."_ It was already twenty minutes past the time he was expected.

"I'm sure it's nothing. You're always telling me that Mike is frequently complaining that time in Ireland is somewhat flexible." Jesse tried to apply a reasonable explanation for Charlie's absence. "Probably a cultural thing. Why don't you give him a quick call?"

Sam pulled out his phone but before he had a chance to dial, Evan barged into the room, making his way toward the head of the table, usurping the chair meant for another. All the colour drained from Elsa's face as she watched her wayward son's approach. Sam's booming voice rang out, "Hey, pal, this is a private party."

A smug expression could be found on Evan's face. "So I understand, but I thought you might like to know your guest of honour is tied up at the moment." He chuckled at his own joke before continuing. "He won't be able to make tonight." Confused faces surrounded the table.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam's patience with his stepson had run out.

This time, Evan felt in control. He was not cowed by the men to either side of him. "I'm talking about your shiny new toy, Axe." He took out his own mobile, glanced at the display, and turned it toward the others. "Tsk, tsk. Looks like your boy here ran into some trouble." Four pairs of eyes focused on the tiny screen: Charlie, bound and gagged! Expressions of disbelief from the women but Sam jumped up, grabbing Evan by his lapels, Jesse at his side.

"You son-of-a-bitch, what the hell have you done?" Sam was ready to pulverise the interloper.

Evan was relatively calm. He had the upper hand here. "I suggest you let me go, unless you'd like Charlie Westen to die - again; this time for eternity." He smiled as Sam reared back ready to land a blow. Jesse caught his arm mid-air, realising they needed to hear him out. Charlie's life might depend on it. Later, they could deal with this punk.

Sam released his grip. Evan straightened his jacket. "Is that champagne?" He picked up the bottle from the table pouring a glass for himself, revelling in the torment of the others. "The surprisingly undead young Westen is in the care of my current business partner." Evan began to explain the situation. "He's fine, uncomfortable perhaps, and he'll stay fine as long as you meet our conditions." All eyes were focused on him, tense expressions all around. "For a million dollars, he'll stay that way." Charlie added a finder's fee onto Carmelo's demands. He could pay off his debt giving the drug dealer a bonus, plus have some start up cash for himself. He doubted Elsa would give him another penny of her own free will after this stunt. "You have 48 hours to make this happen. After that... well let's just say you won't be hearing from the kid again." He gulped his champagne and prepared to leave.

"A million bucks! How are we gonna get our hands on that kinda cash?" Sam paused. "I don't know who you think you've got there but it's my nephew, Chuck Finley. His folks don't have the money for this. You made a bad mistake this time, Evan."

Evan stared at Elsa. She could not meet his gaze. "I guess my mom will have to decide how much 'Chuck's' life is worth. I know how it works. I know that 48 hours is enough time to gather the assets together. Use cash, sell the G-6, check the couch cushions for loose change." He headed for the door. "I'll be in touch. Sorry I can't stay for dinner. Enjoy!" With that, he was gone.

Alina was speechless, overwhelmed by what had just transpired. Elsa began sobbing softly, astounded that her son could be so heartless. Sam was furious, ready to gather up the guns and stage an assault. It was Jesse who was deep in thought, trying to remain calm, trying to rationally come up with a plan. Finally, he spoke, "We can't do this alone and we can't let anyone else know about Charlie." The others turned toward him. Sam was rapidly getting his emotions under control as Jesse continued. "We gotta call Mike and Fi." It was the obvious next step in this nightmare they found themselves in. They couldn't gamble with Charlie's life while his family remained oblivious of the danger.

"Crap!" Sam took a deep breath and began to dial.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! Your kind words mean more than you could possibly imagine and encourages me to continue. With kind regards and many thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Haon Deag**_

The sound of a ringing mobile interrupted the stillness of the cottage rousing its slumbering occupants. "It's the middle of the night, who would be calling at this hour!" Fiona punched her pillow, repositioning herself now that she was awakened.

Michael fumbled in the darkness as he reached for the offensive device on his bedside table. He tried to shake himself awake as he answered, "Yeah."

"Hey, Mikey." Sam wanted to give his friend a moment before dropping the news. After all, he knew what time it was across the pond and his friend was certainly not expecting this call.

"Sam?" Michael pushed sleep aside. It was no idle reason that would prompt Sam to call at this hour. He pulled himself upright, Fiona mirroring his movements. "What's wrong?" Both of them now on alert. Michael pushed the speaker button including Fiona in the conversation.

"Uh, we have ourselves a situation here." Sam was unsure how best to broach their predicament. He glanced at Jesse, his body tense, his mind in overdrive.

"A situation?" Michael was alarmed wondering what had happened. He feared there was unpleasant news. He had very few close contacts left back in Miami, very few he cared about. His thoughts immediately turned toward Jesse. Perhaps, he was in some type of trouble. Michael waited for Sam to explain fearing the worst but prepared to help in any way possible. He never expected what followed.

Sam cleared his throat, then plunged ahead. "Charlie's been taken."

Fiona and Michael looked at each other, confusion apparent in their expressions. "Taken? What are you talking about, Sam?" Michael discounted the suggestion as his eyes locked on Fiona. She shook her head clearly giving no credence to Sam's statement. They had recently spoken to Charlie. They trusted his judgement. A European jaunt was filled with enough excitement for the eighteen year old. A trip to Miami would be foolhardy and Charlie was well aware of the dangers there. They held nothing back these past few years. Sam must have his facts wrong.

The silence was somewhat deafening. Sam hesitated as he struggled to find the words to describe the events of the past few days, how he failed to contact his friends immediately, how he failed to protect their boy. The truth of it was he was thrilled to have the chance to get to know the younger Westen. It was like visiting the past, reconnecting with his absent friends. He let his guard down as he savoured the oft forgotten memories and revelled in the future, the man that Charlie Westen was becoming. Sam was comforted knowing his part in seeing promises made long ago had come to fruition, a mission undertaken on possibly the worst day of his life was complete. But his own joy had now exacted a terrible cost; he had betrayed the trust of his best friends.

"Charlie's in Amsterdam, Sam. I just talked to him the other day." Fiona jumped in. She then whispered to Michael, "I think he's confused. Maybe his age is catching up to him a bit."

"I heard that, sister! My mind and my hearing are fine." He pushed the remark aside and plunged into the tale. "Charlie's supposed to be in Amsterdam, he told me, but he's in Miami. Has been for nearly a week."

Fiona was quick to anger as she grappled with this bombshell, "Why that little ...! I'm going to kill him." She then shouted into the phone, "Then, I'm going to kill you, Sam. How could you..."? Fiona's fists clenched as Sam's words hung in the air. She wished she could somehow apparate to Miami, grab her "former" friend by the neck, or perhaps somewhere even more sensitive, more painful, and squeeze...

"Fi! Fi! Fi!" Michael needed to think. He held up his hands urging her to calm down. They needed to hear the entire situation, recriminations could come later. "Go on, Sam." Fiona dropped her imaginary vendetta and concentrated on the present.

"He showed up wanting to visit Madeline and Nate's graves. He had some cockamamie idea of wanting to thank them in person. Pay his respects. Didn't want you two to worry. Jesse and I watched him like a hawk..."

Fi and Michael's eyes locked on one another as they heard the news that both of their friends chose to harbour their wayward son. Michael raised his hand, covering his face as frustration crept upon him. He did not like where this conversation seemed to be leading. Fiona interrupted once again, "Et tu, Jesse?" Jesse grimaced, furious with himself that he agreed to the deception. Michael remained silent as he waited for Sam to continue.

Sam knew that he had Michael's full attention. "He headed off to the beach this morning. He was supposed to meet us for a farewell dinner. He is scheduled to fly out tomorrow. He didn't show, Mike." Sam shook his head, still grappling how things went so awry. "Anyway, Evan, Elsa's son, you remember him?" Michael did, not fondly. Hearing the name, Fiona looked upward to the heavens. "Well, he and some unnamed partner figured out who he was, managed to snatch him. He showed up at our little dinner party with a ransom demand." All the operatives involved in the discussion knew that ransom was not an option. It would not insure Charlie's safety. This was a situation that must be handled another way.

Now it was Elsa's turn to break into the conversation. "I'll pay it. I have the money. I can't let anything happen to your boy." She hesitated thinking about her own son and the pain he was causing. "I'm so sorry." She was overcome with emotion unable to add anything further.

While Elsa was speaking, Fiona grabbed her laptop searching for flights. "There is an 11:45 am flight leaving Shannon. One stop in Philadelphia. Arriving in Miami around 18:30 tomorrow night." She looked at Michael who mouthed the words, "Book it."

Michael turned his attention back to Sam as Fiona made the emergency arrangements. "We'll be there as soon as possible. Find out anything you can. We need to know who we are up against."

"You got it, brother!" Sam's voice tried to sound confident. Details about transportation and a place to stay followed. Michael insisted on a small motel, no lobby, few or no security cameras, somewhere like Hialeah. Sam agreed to all his suggestions. He had let his friends down once. It would not happen again.

Jesse mentioned that Evan indicated he would contact them with more information shortly. He planned to demand proof of life at that time. Fiona stifled a sob. Michael tried to remain stoic. Charlie's parents could not save him but perhaps Michael Westen and Fiona Glenanne could. It was time to become themselves again... at least for now.

The call ended. The operatives sprung to action. Fiona dashed about the cottage; a string of expletives and suggested tortures for both Sam and Jesse erupted from her all while packing a small holdall with essentials, a few items of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, some toiletries. Never had she packed so quickly or lightly. Michael did much the same, only in silence reverting to his past operational mode. He reached behind the false panel of their bedroom wardrobe, grabbing their "Go" bags. It contained assorted passports, cash, items that could prove useful on an emergency journey.

"I suppose bringing guns or some C-4 is out of the question." Fiona surveyed their luggage, feeling it was completely inadequate to their true needs.

"Airline security frowns on that sort of thing." Michael smiled slightly. "We'll have to pick up what we need once we're there. Sam and Jesse will do the recon so we'll know what we're up against." His smile faded. "We'll get him back, Fiona." His gaze was unflinching, determined. His mind already strategising potential scenarios. Fiona recognised the expression immediately harkening back to another place and time.

She nodded slightly, her expression pained. Miami - it conjured up images of too many ghosts. It was a place where nothing ever went according to plan, nothing that truly mattered. She had hoped to never see it again. Fate was sometimes a cruel taskmaster. Michael could almost read her thoughts. He reached for her face, gently touching her cheek. "We will get him back. I promise." Michael never made a promise lightly. He would get their son out of danger, regardless of the cost. His eyes hardened before her eyes. Someone had made a terrible mistake and would pay dearly for it. They were going to war.

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There was little rest for Jesse and Sam that night. They waited, powerless as they counted the minutes, the hours until Evan contacted them with further details. Inaction was not a choice so they set about seeking the Charger, seeking clues. Charlie's destination had been South Beach so they began what they expected was to be a fruitless search in that location. The Charger was distinctive. If it were in the area, it would be found. They systematically trolled the streets that were relatively abandoned in the dead of night. The area gave up few secrets, they were grasping at straws trying to assuage their guilt.

"What do you say we call it a night, Jesse?" Sam was clearly discouraged. "This is kinda a wild goose chase. Let's get some shuteye. Try again in the morning. It's gonna be a long day."

Jesse saw the sense in Sam's idea but he was not ready to give up yet. "Just a little while longer, Sam. Let's finish up through here." He indicated an area on the map in front of him. Sam reluctantly agreed and they continued the search on the nearly deserted streets.

Finally, a glimmer of hope was spotted. "There! To the left, down there!" Jesse pointed in the direction.

"You got something?" Sam perked up, hoping Jesse was correct. He turned down the narrow road. There it was - the Charger wedged between two other vehicles, a parking ticket splayed across the windscreen. "Hey! We struck the jackpot." They pulled up alongside. Both men inspected the car but there were no visible clues as to Charlie's whereabouts. "Well, at least we found it. It's a start." Sam took the discovery as an encouraging find.

Jesse got behind the wheel of the Charger and they set off to get some rest, if that was even possible, and wait to hear from Evan. Sam was relying on Evan's ineptitude to let something slip, provide some clue as to either the identity of his partner or Charlie's location. Evan might be a book smart guy, after all, he was admitted to Yale University back in the day, but he had no common sense. He also had quite a chip on his shoulder, always seeking to prove himself, always seeking respect. Sam was counting on him remaining true to character. He was relying on his ability to goad the man into revealing more than he should. For once he hoped that Evan would not disappoint!

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Charlie played his part brilliantly. His captors saw a snivelling boy, overwhelmed by his situation, fearing for his life. A part of this was true but his survival depended upon presenting himself one way and acting another. They took his photo to include with a ransom demand. Forty-eight hours was the deadline. He planned to use much of that time to watch and learn and hopefully find a weakness during his unexpected captivity. He watched the patterns of sunlight to gauge the passing of time. His jailers checked on him every two hours or so, less frequently as time passed. They occasionally brought him into the main house, his hands released from the restraints, so that he could relieve himself, get food and water. Michael had once taught Charlie to hold his hands in a certain way should he ever be zip-tied. It made it appear they were close together but would provide a smidgen of room to extricate himself. Another fact tucked away in the recesses of his mind that was proving useful.

Charlie took the opportunity to inspect his surroundings, look for exits, count the men in the compound, look for shift changes. He made himself cry quietly during these outings emphasising his weakness. He saw the disgusted and pitying looks he received from Carmelo's men but it achieved the goal he sought. They discounted him. That is just what he needed them to do.

When he was returned to his makeshift cell, he removed his shackles. He was able to inspect the contents of the shed-like structure. Nothing that could be used as a possible weapon could be found but there were lots of gardening products that had potential. He peered out the windows, keeping to the shadows, as he gathered more Intel about his prison. He noted where the cars were parked, what types of guns they carried. He even spotted household staff milling about the place. The compound was an active one.

They never forgot to lock his cage but that caused him no worry. After all, he carried a hairpin, a bit of knowledge imparted from his mam. He kept one on the waistband of whatever he was wearing. When he was ready to make his move, he would make use of it. Fiona had assured him that a hairpin was as effective as a set of locks picks in the right hands. He trusted that she was correct!

His da had often explained the most opportune time to make a move. He recalled Michael's words of wisdom, "_There's a reason most surprise attacks come just before dawn. Sleepers hit their deepest REM cycles just before sunrise which makes it harder to come to full alertness and anyone on watch is likely to be exhausted at the end of a shift." _All he could do now was to bide his time, have patience. He closed his eyes, recharging himself for the coming escape.


	12. Chapter 12

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Do Dheag**_

Evan strode into the lobby of his mother's hotel filled with confidence and sporting a new Armani suit. He had arranged to meet with Sam poolside lessening the chances of a listening device being employed. He was pleased to see Axe lounging as usual, but not looking relaxed. He was enjoying making the man squirm. When Sam noticed his entry, he stood up, joining him at the table where Evan had planted himself.

"Looking a little tired, Axe. Having difficulty sleeping? Me, I slept like a baby." Evan smirked and Sam wished he could wipe that expression off his face. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"

Sam scowled, "It's a bit early. It's barely noon."

"I didn't think that ever mattered to you, Axe." Evan leaned back in his chair. "Besides, it seems a celebration is in order. I'm about to be a very rich man... with very powerful friends." He waited to see Sam's reaction but he was only met with a cold stare.

"Look, kid, this isn't exactly social hour." Sam's voice was hard. "Let's get this done so you can get the hell outta here."

Evan laughed at the old man's attempt at toughness. He removed his cell phone from inner pocket. "This was taken an hour ago. You can see today's paper. The kid is fine." After Sam noted the updated photo and nodded briefly. Evan then slipped a piece of paper toward him. "That's the place and time for the exchange. No cops. No tricks. You know the drill. You get the kid. I get the money. Everybody wins!" He stood up quickly, buttoning up his jacket. He was thoroughly enjoying being in control. He had spent far too many years climbing the ladder to respect and power, never really succeeding. But fate had dealt him a new hand and he could see this unexpected turn of events had given him a chance to finally become a player that others must heed or suffer the consequences. The fact that he could make his stepfather suffer a bit was a bonus. After all his failed schemes, things were now turning his way!

Sam jumped up, grabbing Evan's arm. "You don't wanna do this, Evan. It's not too late. Tell me where he is, who's holding him, then disappear. I won't come after you."

Evan stared at Sam's arm with disdain and he removed it at once. "Thirty-four hours left, old man." He moved closer to Sam whispering in his ear, a wry smile on his face. "The clock is ticking." Then, he turned, walking with purpose toward the exit.

Sam watched him disappear; a smile crossed his lips as Jesse stepped out of the shadows. "You plant the tracker?"

"Yes, indeedy." Sam looked at his friend. "Planted that RDF when I grabbed him. Good thing you still have access to the latest toys."

Jesse smiled, "Let's get upstairs and see where the little bastard goes." Both men hoped that this would lead them to Charlie. Fiona and Michael would be landing in a few hours. They wanted to have some concrete information to share with their friends. They had kept a confidence and wound up inadvertently betraying those that trusted them beyond all measure. They needed a bit of redemption, and perhaps a smidgen of luck.

Within moments, they were before the laptop watching the blinking dot that was Evan's tracker move across the screen. Both men wanted to be on the streets tailing him as he wound his way through Miami, but they realised that their faces were too recognisable to the scoundrel. It would be foolhardy to risk exposure in such a manner, so they needed an accomplice. As they monitored Evan's movements from their fixed location, another would be following on his heels. There was only one individual for the task; only one other who knew that Michael Westen and company may not be as dead as they were reported to be.

Barry Burkowski stood graveside that day as Michael Westen was laid to rest. He watched the mourners as they gathered. There was much disbelief and many tears but those who had lost the most, Sam Axe and Jesse Porter, they remained dry-eyed. Some attributed this to stoicism on behalf of an ex-SEAL and ex-spy, but Barry had suspicions of his own. It was shortly after the funeral that he was asked to move money that once belonged to Michael Westen and Fiona Glenanne into offshore accounts. He asked no questions but did as Sam instructed making regular adjustments, transferring funds as needed into various accounts. No names were attached to these, just numbers, but it had the familiarity of old banking habits of his former associates. Though never confirmed by Sam or Jesse, Barry had the comforting feeling that somehow Mike had cheated death. He hoped that he and that hot slice of crazy, Fiona, had escaped to some tropical island and were sipping Piña Coladas on the beach. Michael Westen had complicated his life more than once, but the truth of it was that Mike was a friend who had bailed him out of trouble whenever asked. He owed it to the Westen family to help however he was able.

But Barry was a reluctant participant in this venture. It wasn't his distaste of the task but rather he feared his competency in such a matter. He had helped Mike once or twice with following a target back in the day but it had been nearly twenty years since those skills were needed. When Sam contacted him in the morning, he knew he could not turn him down. So, he rescheduled his waxing appointment, donned a pair of shades, and prepared to play spy for the day. Sam and Jesse monitored Evan's movements from the comfort of the penthouse, directing Barry's movements.

Barry followed Evan. He kept a safe distance and even changed vehicles to lessen the chances of being spotted. There were inconsequential stops throughout the day: a long period of time, likely a luncheon, at The Chadwick, an appointment at a salon with a well known stylist the prices beyond most budgets, and even shopping in the Design District, with nearly an hour spent in an high end jewellery boutique specialising in Rolex watches. The day dragged on, frustration mounting with each passing minute.

"Are you guys sure this joker isn't just playing with us?" Barry voiced the thoughts that were passing through all of their minds. "I gave up an appointment with Fernando for this. It's gonna take me weeks to get a new one. I gotta stick to my manscape regimen." Sam and Jesse exchanged amused looks but made no derisive comment.

"Hang with him a little longer, Barry." Jesse had no other avenue for discovering Charlie's position. This had to work. Finally, Evan headed in a new direction, Barry not far behind. Shops, restaurants, and hotels slipped away as Elsa's son entered a residential area. The men grew hopeful as Evan approached an estate and quickly gained access through the security gate. Barry parked as he tried to peer through the gate but he soon drew the attention of a pair of guards whom he assumed were armed by they way their jackets hung. He pulled away swiftly before the guards could approach his vehicle.

"Uh, guys, I think we got something." Barry spoke with mission control as they watched the blip on their screen remain stationary. "Big estate. High walls. Electronic gate with a couple human watchdogs on it. I'm texting you the address."

Jesse and Sam picked up the laptop, their guns, some spare clips, and headed out. They needed to do their own surveillance of the area now that they had a lead. "On our way. Get outta there, Barry. Find somewhere to lay low in case he moves before we get there."

"Will do, Sam." Barry was happy to comply with this request but his curiosity was piqued, "Wanna tell me what this is all about?"

Sam shook his head, "Better you don't know, but thanks, I owe you one." Barry was not surprised by the answer. Even after all these years, there were secrets in these men's lives. This was a day completely out of his comfort zone and he needed to de-stress after this afternoon of cloak-and-dagger activity. He drove away wondering if it was possible to get a massage. A smile crossed his lips as he headed back toward his favourite salon.

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Sam and Jesse had no difficulty finding the location, GPS guiding them effortlessly. The challenge was to do the recon without being spotted. The estate was bordered by water. The operatives found a location on the opposite bank, binoculars in hand, they were effectively able to survey the physical layout. The main house was large, a typical Miami estate surrounded by palms and foliage, fronted by a courtyard, a quadruple garage lined along one side. There was a pool, of course, and a few smaller structures scattered about: a covered gazebo, a small guesthouse, and a couple of sheds likely used for storage or gardening supplies. Evan's car was parked within the gates. They counted at least four guards prowling the property and assumed there could be others within the main house.

"Lotta firepower in there. Whaddya think they're guarding?" Sam peered through the lenses, looking for any hints of what or who might require this type of protection.

Jesse had no answers and shook his head. "Not sure. One of those outbuildings could be a secure way to hold someone. No clear way to escape. It's a long way across that open courtyard, then you gotta scale a seven foot wall, and hope those goons don't notice."

"You could swim. If Frick and Frack there don't hear the splash and come gunning for you." Sam pointed out the other possible route. Neither option seemed a viable option for an eighteen-year-old kid. If Charlie was in there, he was stuck unless rescue arrived. "This could be the place." For the first time that day, they shared a smile. Sam glanced at his watch. It was nearly time to get to the rally point. "Our overseas visitors should be arriving soon." He reached out an arm patting Jesse on the back. "Looks like we may have a good lead. Maybe Fi won't shoot us?"

"Yet!" Jesse knew that they were not off the hook. "She won't shoot us - yet." There was more than Fi's wrath at stake. Charlie's life was on the line. They had known the risks of having him stay in Miami and they had not protected him. Both men carried the burden of guilt. Jesse continued to stare at the site, as he grew increasingly serious. "We gotta get Charlie back."

Sam acknowledged the truth of that statement. "Amen, brother." They returned to the car, eager for a reunion that they wished had been orchestrated quite differently.

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The flight attendant made the announcement to ready the cabin for landing. Fiona's head rested gently on Michael's shoulder, their fingers intertwined as they approached their destination. He peered through the window as the land came into view. Miami. It conjured up images both good and bad, a jumble of emotions that he could not fully express with words. He lifted her hand to his lips placing a soft kiss there. It brought a small smile to her lips as her gaze moved upward to his face. He noticed that her eyes were filled with worry. Little was said on the flight. Little could be said. The reason for this impromptu trip could not be discussed in such a public forum. Their thoughts centred on their son, each lost in their own musings.

"I never thought we would be back here," whispered Michael as his focus returned to the city growing nearer by the moment.

"Nor I." Fiona turned slightly following his gaze. The city sprawled in all directions. She had almost forgotten its size. "How will we ever find him?" Her face collapsed as she pondered the daunting task before them.

Michael tried to sound confident, more confident that he actually felt. "Sam and Jesse would have found us a lead." She looked into his eyes needing to read the truth within them.

"How can you be so sure?" Fiona wanted to believe, wanted to share his shred of optimism.

He began to rub his thumb over her hand, a gesture meant for comfort. "Because they both are more afraid of what you may do to them than any harm that may come to Charlie." The observation made them both smile. "Besides Evan is involved. In that contest my money's on Sam."

She was quick to respond, "Don't remind me. He's an amateur and amateurs panic." She was a realist having experience in these types of situations.

"You heard Sam. Evan's just the front man. Someone else is calling the shots. Someone who knows how to play the game." Michael turned serious. "We know how to play, too. And I intend to win." Fiona watched his face harden as he made this declaration. She swallowed the last vestiges of her fear transforming herself into the operative she once was, adding, "I love to play." Those words were uttered softly, almost as if it were a purr. They were back; ready to be themselves, ready to undertake a mission as they had done so often in the past. The wheels hit the Tarmac. The game was afoot!


	13. Chapter 13

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Tri Deag**_

It was not the reunion they dreamed of, not the reunion they wanted. It was a reunion born of necessity. A reunion spurred by the actions of reckless youth. But despite it all, there was anticipation, a wisp of joy in the hearts of all.

Sam and Jesse arrived at the rally spot early, an abandoned building at the edge of town, the area deserted as the sun began to set. They brought the Charger. It seemed fitting that it be present as they reunited for the first time in over a decade. Sam reached into the cooler stocked with beer and yoghurt. He held one of each in his hands as he offered Jesse some refreshment.

Jesse declined and added, "Hope you got some ice in there?" Sam looked puzzled. "It will help reduce the swelling when Fi lands a punch on one or both of us."

The comment had a ring of truth and Sam gulped some of his beer. "Better drink up then. Helps to dull the pain." He and Jesse went over their diagram once more. They made a detailed drawing of the estate where Evan led them, the place they were counting on as Charlie's prison. All the information derived from their recon mission was listed. They knew that Mike would want the facts laid out. He would study the material, analyse what was known, and extrapolate what could be assumed. Fi would be ready to move immediately, guns blazing, C-4 ready to be hurled at whatever wall came between mother and child. Both men knew that the only way to slow her down was to provide concrete details to study and use strategically to plan out an assault.

Headlights could be seen as a nondescript rental car pulled into the meeting place. Jesse and Sam exchanged looks, excitement and dread coursed through their bodies, then they faced forward, as if preparing to meet the firing squad, and waited to catch the first glimpse of their friends. Jesse elbowed Sam, "If she shoots on sight, well, it was nice knowing you, man."

"Likewise." Sam replied, then added, "A bullet would be too quick. I expect she'll want to make us suffer." The car came to a stop, its occupants opening the doors immediately. Michael was the first to come into view. "Hey! Long time, no see." Sam greeted his friend with a handshake that quickly transition into a fleeting man-hug. They broke apart as Sam planted a firm slap on his buddy's back. "Good to see you, brother!"

"You, too, Sam." Michael could barely be heard, as he could not keep the emotion from his voice. He then headed toward Jesse

Fiona and Jesse were still locked in an embrace, whispering words of greeting. They broke apart as Michael neared and Fi slowly made her way over to Sam. He called out as she approached, "Were you always that short?"

"I dispensed with heels ages ago. They kept sinking in the wet." Fiona stood facing him, a slight smile at the corners of her mouth. "Was your hair always so grey? Or did it happen overnight once you realised you lost Charlie and were going to have to face me?" Sam winced accepting his complicity in this debacle. She stared at Sam for several seconds before glancing back at Jesse. "But at least you're not bald!"

"I heard that!" Jesse shouted over to the pair as he heard the jibe meant for him.

Fiona drew closer, hugging him as she whispered in his ear, "I've missed you." Her words were filled with sincerity and it was clear that Sam felt the same, his eyes growing moist at her words. She pulled away adding, "Hard to believe I could miss a philandering booze hound!" Her smile negated her derisive comment.

Sam laughed, "I feel the same. Not the part about the philandering booze hound, of course. But you get the point." Fiona did. A relationship that began with distrust and hatred had morphed into one of mutual respect and deep friendship. Sam had more than once urged his buddy to stay away from this "total psycho", but Mike had chosen the perfect partner to share his life. Fiona wanted Michael to distance himself from the guy in the uniform who was beholden to his superiors, but she eventually learned the man had a mind of his own and loyalty that knew no bounds.

Fiona looked from Sam to Jesse the smile disappearing completely from her face. "Don't think the fact that I haven't shot both of you lets you off the hook for this mess." Sam hung his head, his own guilt more painful than any barb Fiona could deliver. Jesse opened his mouth ready to deliver apologies and explanations but Fiona raised her hand forbidding him to speak. "You can both apologise to me later. Right now, Charlie needs your help." She glanced at Michael. "We need your help." Sam and Jesse nodded sufficiently chastised. She then drew closer to both men, her eyes fiery despite the slight smile she wore, and whispered, "But when this is over and Charlie is safe..." She left her words drift off allowing both men to use their imaginations about her future intentions.

"Ahem." Jesse cleared his throat loudly, "I know you came all this way for a helluva reason but it's good to see you both. It's been a long time. This deserves a toast!" He passed out beers to all. "To friendship and to getting Charlie back - so we all can kick his ass!"

"I'll drink to that!" Sam clinked bottles with his companions.

Fiona added, "Admit it, Sam, you'll drink to anything."

"What? You guys are together like five minutes and you're right back at it." Jesse shook his head in amused disbelief.

Michael stepped in, "Not that I don't enjoy listening to you two verbally spar with one another." He pointed to the pair. He couldn't help but smile himself. Listening to Sam and Fiona throwing jabs at one another so effortlessly, it was like old times, the past years slipping away. However, this was not a social visit. "But..." He did not complete the thought. He didn't need to. All four present were well aware of the purpose of this visit.

"I got it, brother. Let's get to it then." Sam ushered them all to a makeshift table that had been set up. The drawing that they had made covered the surface. Sam walked Michael and Fi through the diagram, pointing out the physical layout, possible entry and exit points, surrounding structures in the neighbourhood.

Michael and Fiona studied the blueprint intensely. Then the questioning began, "Security?" Michael broached the subject first.

"It's a fortress. Security cameras here and here." Jesse pointed to the specific areas. "Looks like floodlights and motion detectors are hard wired into the system. Two guards stay near the gate. The other two roam the perimeter of the property. Looks like they're packing Mack 10s."

"Of course, they are!" Michael was hoping for better news.

Fiona touched the front wall on the drawing. "How thick is this? Any chance of a quiet breech?"

"Maybe toward this far corner. Lotta plants and trees the gardener didn't get to yet." Jesse explained. "Motion sensors might be blocked here. May be our in." Fiona nodded slightly.

"May be?" Michael did not like uncertainty. "What have we got inside?"

Sam looked slightly uncomfortable, "Look, Mike, we only got a look at this place for a couple hours. We saw no shift changes. Only Evan came in, no one left during that time. I got a buddy of mine searching for plans of the interior, but it's gonna take some time."

"We don't have time, Sam." Fiona voiced what they were all thinking. "Charlie has less than 24 hours." No one spoke for several moments.

Michael broke the silence, "Do we know who owns this place?"

"Property is listed under the name of a trust, not an individual. I may know more in the morning." Sam knew they were working with only a handful of facts. More time was essential to have all the knowledge necessary for a successful mission, but they often made do with less in the past. They had two choices: act swiftly, hoping surprise would be an asset, or negotiate, hoping for more time to plan. Both had their own set of risks.

Michael stood upright needing a moment to digest the information presented. He wiped his hand over his face, then both arms settled on his hips. Something caught his eye and he cocked his head to get a better look. A smile crossed his face and he moved toward the object. His movement was noted by Fiona at once and she followed him with her eyes. The Charger was parked alongside the building. He had not noticed it at first as all his attention was drawn on being reunited with his friends. He stood beside the vehicle running his hand along its fender.

Sam drew closer, eventually standing by Michael's side. "It looks good, Sam. I had no idea that it was still around."

"Yeah, well, Jesse and I kinda thought if you ever came back, you might wanna use it, you know." Sam had not wanted to part with the car that had become so associated with their exploits in Miami all those years ago. It was part of the team that they had created. It was part of all of their history, not just Michael's. "We take it out for a spin now and then."

Michael opened the driver's side door, settling in the front seat. The feel of the leather, the familiar grip of the steering wheel transported him back to another time, another life. He looked through the windscreen, three pairs of eyes watching his every move, each one sporting a small smile despite the task ahead. He stared at the trio. His euphoria quickly evaporating as he objectively thought about the mission and the team. This was not the crew that once took Miami by storm. The years had caught up with all of them.

Field agents were retired out once they hit fifty, fifty-five at most, whether they were ready to leave the service or not. At that point, a desk job was their only option. There was a sound reason behind this policy. Age caught up with you… eventually. Your brain held up longer than your body. It was a harsh reality, one he was loath to acknowledge. His body continued to send him subtle signals that he had already put great wear on tear on every muscle and joint. His reactions were slightly slower these days; his strength not what it once was. The changes were gradual, hardly noticeable on a daily basis, but they accumulated. Though they never discussed it, he could tell Fiona was aware of changes in both of their abilities. They trained together. They timed each other. The numbers didn't lie. Although they were remarkably fit, agile and skilled for operatives their age, in a physical contest with a much younger opponent, they knew the odds would be stacked against them. Of course, experience gave them a certain advantage in situations - but not all situations.

He took an objective look at his friends. Sam moved slower these days. He had no doubt he had the same 'can do attitude' but the body may not be as willing. Michael recognised that Sam's contribution to this mission would best be served with his sniper skills. He needed to find Sam a perch with a good view of the estate grounds. He could remain stationary, take out the guards or the hostage takers, giving Michael access, giving Michael an opportunity to search for Charlie.

Jesse was several years younger than Michael, but even he was over fifty. He still had the moves, still was working in the field, and still had a tendency to take risks. Michael knew that Jesse had four little girls depending upon him. As much as he wanted to save Charlie, he wasn't prepared to risk Jesse's life in the process. He needed to assign Jesse a task that had less chance of intentionally putting him in harm's way, less chance of making four children fatherless. It was a burden he could not bear, perhaps that guilt would be even worse than losing Charlie. Michael thought the best place for Jesse would be to man the rear exit points. Michael would attempt to draw the estate's inhabitants toward the front where Sam would be waiting with a sniper rifle. Jesse could guard the rear, sweep up anyone who might approach from another angle, protect them from being flanked.

Then there was Fiona. Fiona. She was a major problem. This situation was too raw, too personal. No risk was too great when it came to Charlie. She could not be relied upon to stay objective, to stick to the plan. Her instincts would drive her to cut a bloody swath through the estate unless she was corralled in some measure. He needed to keep her close. They would handle the search through the estate. He would provide the firepower; she would open the doors, by the handles or by force, whatever the situation dictated.

Michael smiled as he exited the vehicle, returning to the group. Sam immediately noticed the change in his expression. Sam clapped his hands together in anticipation. "Five minutes in the Charger and he's got an idea!"

"I need to see the site." Michael did have a rudimentary idea of how to proceed but required visual confirmation to go forward. "Think we can take a look without being made."

"Yeah." Sam knew his buddy's moves and anticipated this next step. "Got a coupla pairs of night vision goggles in my trunk. Should do the trick."

Michael turned to Fi. "Why don't you grab us some food? Should be back relatively soon." Fiona just stared at him, eyebrows raised, her arms crossed. She made no sound, no movement. Her message soon delivered. "On second thought, Jesse, you've already seen the layout. Sam, Fi, and I can do a visual on the place." Michael looked at Fi who cracked a small smile indicating she approved of the new arrangements.

"Looks like I'm on dinner duty." Jesse smiled.

Michael continued, "When we get back, we'll work out the details. Pick up what we need at the storage shed. It is still there, right, Sam?" Sam nodded. "Then, we go. Right before dawn. Hopefully, we find some groggy guards not at their best."

"And Charlie." Fiona added what she was most hoping to find.

"And Charlie." Michael reaffirmed her thought, a slight smile on his face, a reassuring nod.

Sam and Jesse flanked the couple, remaining silent, lost in their own thoughts. Four people gathered together with common purpose. Team Westen was back in action!


	14. Chapter 14

**Dancing With Skeletons**

_**A Ceathair Deag**_

They peered into the darkness, the night goggles allowing them to see despite the lack of light. It was all there just as Sam had outlined. Being present made it easier for Michael to visualise the distance between structures, the points where they would be the most exposed, the alternative exit points if they required a Plan B. The trio had what they needed. It was time to go.

Michael and Sam turned to leave beginning to slip back through the bushes that covered their surveillance point. Fiona stood watch just a moment longer, something drawing her to continue her vigil. "Wait!" a whispered plea broke the silence. She caught a glimpse of movement and then watched intently as three men left the main house, heading toward one of the storage structures. The figure in the centre was shackled. Her heart was racing as Michael re-joined her, his goggles fixed on the same scene now.

"Whaddya got?" Sam recognised those looks.

"It's Charlie." Fiona turned toward Sam, passing him the scope so he could see for himself. "This is the place. You found him, Sam." Her voice was barely audible but her excitement was palpable.

Michael and Sam observed Charlie being escorted to the shed by two men. Once he was thrust inside, they locked it up, and started their return to the main house.

"I don't suppose you have a sniper rifle in your trunk, Sam?" Fiona was ready to spring into action.

Michael, as usual, was the voice of reason, "Not the smart play here, Fi. We take those two out, the others come running. Probably kill Charlie. Cut their losses." He handed the goggles back to her for another look. "Believe me, there is nothing I'd like more than to end this right now." He placed an arm around her shoulders as she stared at the shed that held their boy. "We know he's there, Fi. I've got a plan. We'll get him back." Michael's confidence grew. They knew where Charlie was being held now increasing their chances of success. He could feel the tension in Fiona's body. "If it makes you feel any better, I promise I will let you do some damage to these guys ... After we get Charlie." He paused, waiting for a response. He could feel some of the unease slipping away from her. She nodded slightly, a small smile forming at the corners of her lips.

"Alrighty, then." Sam led the way back to the car. "We just have to break through the walls, avoid the security cameras and motion detectors, dodge the fellas with guns, grab Charlie, and make an unseen escape with a scared teenager in tow. Easy-peasy." Sam gave a heavy sigh, "Just a typical day with Michael Westen."

"At least we know where he is. It may not be much, Sam, but it's more than we had." Michael noted.

"I've been with you both for what, two hours. Now I remember, you two, are the reason I used to drink." The three set off to meet Jesse. It was time to set a plan in motion!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was difficult to truly see definitive patterns emerge after so short a time. Charlie had been under the 'care' of his jailers for about twenty-four hours. He was brought into the main house once again, the final visit for the night. Food and drink were laid out. This time his host joined him.

Carmelo observed the young man. He enjoyed watching him cower a bit under his gaze. "Eat up. This isn't going to be a long reprieve from your current accommodations." Charlie refused to make eye contact but did heed his advice. He knew he needed to keep up his strength, stay hydrated if he had any chance of enacting his plan. He began to eat and drink, surreptitiously eyeing his surroundings and companions.

"I knew your uncle." Carmelo initiated a conversation. "Michael Westen. What a prick!" Charlie kept his eyes downcast, willing himself not to speak, not to react. "We had a few run-ins, you know, before he got himself blown up." Carmelo wanted to get a rise out of the kid, see if he had any gumption, any familial similarities but Charlie just gulped his water. "Not very chatty, are you?"

Charlie squeaked out, "I just want to go home."

The men in the room chuckled. "Missing your mommy?" Carmelo taunted his charge. The youngster refused to take the bait. He slumped his shoulders in defeat, a calculated move on his part to reinforce the illusion of weakness. The game wasn't fun if the kid wouldn't play. Carmelo soon grew bored realising this one was nothing like the uncle. He turned to his minions. "Let him finish. Lock him up for the night." Then, he approached Charlie, standing close, his face looming near trying to be as threatening as possible. "Charlie here won't give us any trouble, will you?" Charlie shook his head avoiding Carmelo's stare. Carmelo Dante smiled as he left the room.

Charlie took his last bites. His restraints were reapplied as Charlie once again strategically placed his hands in the position Michael had taught him. Then, he was escorted back to the shed. He had an odd sensation as he walked through the empty courtyard. He felt his parents' presence for some odd reason. Wishful thinking, he thought. His parents were snug in their beds four thousand miles away. Charlie was roughly pushed, the door quickly shut behind him, the pins of the lock falling into place as the key was turned. He was alone but dawn was just a few hours away. Then, it would be time to act.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a hurried dinner upon the trio's return. Takeout cartons littered the table, Fi and Michael exchanging their portions with ease, just like the old days. They dined on Chinese food and hope. There was some laughter, even a few jokes. Despite the drama that drew them together, despite the looming task ahead, they were whole again. Dinner, a necessary tactical manoeuvre, provided the backdrop for a few moments of much needed relaxation. Fiona could tell that Michael would have preferred jumping right in to planning their attack when they reunited with Jesse. He immediately grabbed the plans launching into his strategy until Fi gently took his hands, removing the diagram as he stared questioningly at her actions.

"Ten minutes." Her eyes implored him. "Ten minutes. We need to eat something." She knew that they needed much more- more time, more information, more manpower. She also knew that after their actions in the morning, there would be little time for visiting. If the worst happened, their lives would still be forfeit even if the four of them somehow came out alive. If they succeeded, a speedy exit from Miami would be necessary. This moment may be all that they had, all that they would get.

A reunion fifteen years in the making but would be fleeting, over before it truly began.

Michael saw the plea in her eyes. He understood, a smile crossing his face as he handed her the blueprint. She set it aside temporarily. The workbench was transformed into a makeshift dining table. Bottled water was a poor substitute for fine wine but the friends gathered there barely noticed. Conversation flowed easily. Jesse provided much of the humour, telling stories of his wee ones. The highlight was Sam sharing a photo that Alina had sent to him secretly. It was of Jesse - a diamond tiara on his head, a sceptre in his hands, his cheeks rouged! Michael and Fiona erupted in laughter.

"Wanna let me in on the joke?" Jesse was curious what Sam was showing the other two. He grabbed Sam's phone, his mouth dropped open. "Oh, man! Where did you get this?"

"Alina." Sam could barely be understood through the laughter.

"Wow! I make one good lookin' princess." Jesse smiled remembering one of the countless times he played princesses with his daughters. He hoped that he would get another opportunity. The danger ahead weighed on his mind.

The meal was over much too quickly, the laughter disappearing with the last bites. It was time to go to work. The table was cleared, returning to its use as a workbench. The diagram was rolled out. The four operative encircled the table pouring over the drawing. Michael outlined his proposed plan. They reviewed the security, then Michael assigned a task to each of them, where each was to be positioned, what each was required to accomplish. Questions were raised, plans were modified. This team was able to work together seamlessly as they developed a tactical approach to free Charlie. They all knew the consequences of failure, a subject they dared not broach.

Once the strategy was agreed upon, it was time to arm themselves. Michael turned to his friends, "Sam, Fi, you get some sleep. Jesse and I will head to the storage shed, pick up supplies. We'll get some shut eye on the next shift..."

"No, Michael. I need to see what's there if I am to create a proper diversion." Fiona's tone was adamant.

"Fine." Michael folded, realising it was pointless to argue. Sam and Jesse exchanged amused looks. Michael Westen was rarely defeated except when the battle was with Fiona. It was nice to see some things had not changed.

"You three head off. I'm gonna crash." Sam was already heading toward a sleeping bag spread out in a corner of the room. His body was weary. Rest was essential if he was not to be the weak link in this operation. Michael, Jesse, and Fiona moved toward the door as they prepared to gather the 'toys' needed for the morning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The storage locker was stuffed to the rafters. Anything that they once owned that had not been burned or shipped to Ireland remained here. They began to make a pile of supplies in the centre of the room. Sniper rifles, hand guns, ammunition, a case of C-4, detonators, det cord, anything that could be of use was gathered. It would be a long night getting these items ready for battle. They had spent quite a while in storage. There was no way of knowing which of these items might be beyond usefulness, beyond saving.

Fiona stopped, her attention drawn to the shelves storing items of a more personal nature. Boxes of clothing and shoes were spotted, dusty with age and dated in style. Most would still fit but would certainly not be suitable for a matron her age or in the hamlet where she resided. Her gaze continued along the shelves. She looked at her first artistic efforts, several paintings stacked in a corner. Michael followed her with his eyes, "I like the ones you've done recently much better." These images were haunting, bleak, not filled with the wild abandon of her present ventures.

"It was a dark time then. I tried to convince myself I was happy then but these tell another tale." Fiona turned introspective as she remembered the painful past, a time where she almost gave up on love.

Michael strode over to where she was standing. "Glad I was able to brighten your life." She placed her head on his shoulder. He picked up one of the snow globes displayed. He wiped off the dust, a frown creasing his brow, "New Orleans? I don't remember this one." She lifted her head from his shoulder, keeping her eyes downcast. His body tensed up as he replaced it on the shelf, a wave of sadness passing over him. "That's because I wasn't there, isn't it?" She did not need to respond, her silence provided the answer.

Jesse broke in, "You can bring some of those if you want, Fi. We've got plenty of room in the Charger." He indicated the snow globes that had their attention.

She shook her head, "No. All the ones I want are either in ashes or sitting on my étagère at home."

Her face turned toward Michael, her smile removing all vestiges of pain from the past. "But maybe I'll pick up one here." Michael look puzzled as she already had one from Miami. It was prominently displayed in their home. She noted his confused expression and added, "Oh, not for me, for Charlie. I'll put it in his room so that every time he looks at it, he'll remember this foolishness. Remind him to always heed his parents' advice."

"Glad to see you haven't given up your taste for revenge, Fi." Jesse liked the subtlety of her plan. "Think that's it. Let's get this loaded up in the car. We could use some Zzzz's ourselves."

They left the unit, locking it behind them, shutting away the past and the skeletons that remained there. Dawn was approaching! It was time.


End file.
